


Love Me With Your Eyes Closed

by You_Just_Mightx3



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 16-17yrold!Louis, 18yrold!Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mental Instability, Mentions of past abuse, Mentions of past drug use, Multi, Possessive Behaviour, Progressive Love, Rimming, Soul-Mate Sorta, Spanking, VERY PROGRESSIVE LOVE, alpha!Harry, blind!louis, emotional truama, heat - Freeform, omega!Louis, rich!Harry, societal struggles, violence (kinda?)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 365,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Just_Mightx3/pseuds/You_Just_Mightx3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mine. Harry doesn’t understand what does it, maybe the high-pitched, but oddly hesitant voice or the soft pads of his dainty hand over his own rough one, but abruptly, an electric jolt runs up his spine and instinctively, he inhales deeply through his nose. The rich, sweet scent spreads through his blood like wildfire and the feral, caged part in him snaps. </p><p>...or, Louis is a pretty Omega who can't see & Harry's an Alpha who wants to be his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One:

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I don't honestly know where I'm going with this, but I hope to figure it out! :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I don't honestly know where I'm going with this, but I hope to figure it out! :)
> 
> (the lovely lovely image below is a cover made by my brilliant beta, Milena, [bestbetaever!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com)  
> Literally the best! )

Today wasn’t his day, Harry decides, slouching lower into his tight, too-small seat. “Your enthusiasm overrides you,” Zayn, who sits directly across from him, murmurs dryly. Harry just barely stops himself from baring his teeth or something of the other dominance, knowing how intolerable that would be considered in their “proper” Private school. But he wants to. God, he wants to let something loose inside him, something unknown that’s rattling along the chains of his self control…It’s freakish, but moving all the same.

Instead though, he balls his hands into fists at his thighs and makes another half-hearted attempt to pay attention to what their teacher, Mr. Lerwick, is blabbering on about.  But, to be completely honest, he’d rather be anywhere else. Even home –his father’s untouched manor. At least there he could sleep in his bed, comforted by the cool, lone silence.

The hour drags by insistently slow, their moron of a teacher (they’re three bloody weeks into this History’s course, yet still learning absolutely nothing) lecturing about some shit that has nothing to do with Queen Elizabeth the Firsts reign (not that Harry’s listened much, but still, what exactly did this man get paid for?) “And Mr. Styles, could you please tell us what the Elizabethan Settlement did exactly?”

 _Here we go again._ Sighing heavily, Harry straightens slightly in his chair, meeting Lerwick’s reproachful gaze evenly. The old bastard is always out to get him. Poor little Beta. “Well, Mr. L,” he begins easily. “What it did was try and force two very separate religions into one, though, to be blunt sir, I think it was a shit attempt, quite like your shit attempts at schooling.” Around him is a chorus of gasps from the others, but Harry doesn’t really care if he’s tainted their precious innocence, it’s too early in the bloody morning for Mr. Too-Freakin’-Good-To-Be-Teaching-Lerwick’s crap.

Much to his glee, Lerwick turns impressive shades of red, completely outraged. Zayn’s the first to burst into laughter, starting the classes (cattle, he swears) swift laughter. Harry throws Zayn a bemused look to which Zayn shakes his head, mouthing:  _you’re such a twat._ It couldn’t be truer.

“You-! I will  _not_ –tolerate this sort of behaviour–!” Cutting him off, Zayn rises from his desk, shrugging his tattered backpack over his shoulder. Harry takes that as his cue to join and shoves away from the wooden desk quickly enough that the legs scrape the polished linoleum floor, causing a resonating, cringe-worthy screech to travel from his ears to his temples, which give painful throbs.

He really should’ve stayed home instead of getting plastered off his arse last night. Really, it’s never been any good for him. But, Harry thinks bitterly, he couldn’t ruin his perfectly fucked reputation, now could he? Least his father disown him or something. With a thoughtful sigh at the classes’ queue of scandalised faces, he slings his own bag over his shoulder and sides Zayn, tossing an easy arm around his best-mates shoulders.

Lerwick looks like he might explode and Harry smiles broadly at the prospect but takes pity on the older Beta. “See you in detention, Sir.” And that’s that. Harry starts for the doors, towing Zayn along with him. As they pass a pretty red-head, Zayn grins wickedly, shooting her a very inviting wink that has her mouth falling open.

“You shouldn’t get her hopes up like that mate, ‘specially if you’re empty offering,” Harry reprimands as they exit.

“And what gave you the idea I was ‘empty offering’  _mate?”_ Zayn questions, staring straight ahead at the group of blokes (far enough that they can’t actually see them, even with their enhanced vision) with that same too-pleased smirk.

Harry taps his bottom lip, pretending to be deep in thought. “I dunno. Could’ve been all those times I walked in on you and those blokes…” he trails off knowingly. “Or maybe far back when you confessed your undying love for my curls and –!”

“Wha–You little shit!” Zayn accuses, olive skin tinged with pink as he shoves the Alpha by the shoulder. Completely caught off by the force, Harry staggers forward, catching another unsuspecting student’s shoulder, the force enough that the other goes sprawling to the floor, the contents in their bag scattering everywhere.

A heavy silence stretches, that obnoxious, unknown feeling churning in the Alpha’s chest as he stares intently at the smaller boy. He doesn’t bother to reach for his things, but instead scrambles into a sitting position, tucking his legs underneath his bum and tugging on the blazer that swamps his figure. Physically, the boy gives nothing away, head bowed lowly as to hide his features with his feathery fringe. And for some reason, the protective pose bothers Harry like nothing he’s ever felt before. It screams  _no_. This boy should not be hiding from him; his Alpha claws at him impatiently and Harry is completely thrown off by that.

More so by the fact that he can  _feel_ this boy –his emotions radiated from his that forcefully. Sharp spikes of anxiety and embarrassment.  _What…?_ He doesn’t know how to react at all; everything in him demands he lighten the stuffy, tense atmosphere and well. “Accidents happen, yeah?” Harry smiles widely, showing off his dimples with arrogance, waiting a full five seconds before realising the boy’s blatantly ignoring him. His irritation skyrockets.

It runs down his skin, prickling uncomfortably as he grits his teeth to keep back a warning growl. He isn’t used to being ignored or unwanted. Not at all. Harry’s known around the school, hell around the town as a “bad boy” who the guys look up too and the girls want to mess around with. He is used to getting his way. As an Alpha, that’s how it works. Except this boy, this specific little boy obviously doesn’t want anything to do with him and that makes him want to hurt something or better, someone.

He could feel the need bubbling to the surface.  _Fuck._ He shoots a look at Zayn, who simply shrugs, looking obnoxiously (there’s that fucking word again) amused from where he leans on the wall –fucking smug bastard. Trying to seem impassive, he crouches, reaching for a thick book (what the hell does this boy read?) when a smaller, sun-kissed hand goes to stop him, though it manages to somehow miss by a few inches. Intrigued, Harry freezes, hand still outstretched, simply waiting for the fluttery hand to land on his and when it finally does, it trembles along his skin, feather-light and unsure. “D-Don’t. I-It was just an accident, yeah?”

 _Mine._ Harry doesn’t understand what does it, maybe the high-pitched, but oddly hesitant voice or the soft pads of his dainty hand over his own rough one, but abruptly, an electric jolt runs up his spine and instinctively, he inhales deeply through his nose. The rich, sweet scent spreads through his blood like wildfire and the feral, caged part in him snaps.

“Look at me,” he demands, brain-to-mouth filter shattered. The other’s emotions blare like sirens to Harry –curiosity, intimidation and fear. A low, threatening growl rips from the Alpha’s chest, prepared to defend with his life. For the time, he tunes into their surrounding but finds nothing to defend against and with a blink, belatedly realises the other might actually be afraid of  _him._

“’s a, erm, bit difficult,” the boy begins, head-tilting so that Harry can finally see him.  _Mine._ That’s all he’s able to think as he drinks in the masculine yet feminine features. Eyebrows thin, high wings above blue forget-me-nots, his cheeks are sharp, so fucking sharp, and his lips are a thin, inviting pink colour so different from Harry’s plumper, rosy ones.

Everything about him is lovely, but the eyes, they  _stick_ to Harry’s mind. Deep enough that he wants to drown there…but there’s something missing; the colour is too dull, almost… “When I can’t see you,” he finishes. _Almost unseeing._ Harry has the urge to rip something apart, to shout at the unfairness he abruptly feels.

 _“…can’t see you,”_ the words ricochet around his head as the rusty gears shift. He searches those eyes, eyes that stare right back at him and it seems impossible that this boy cannot see him. That he could be blind. It drives Harry’s emotions in millions of directions, all of which revolve around him.

“LOUIS!” The voice is too close to the boy, a hand lands on  _his boy’s shoulder._ He literally see’s red.   _Mine, mine, fucking mine!_  Before he realises what he’s doing, he shoves the other male away from the boy, crowding him, prepared to tear his throat out with his teeth –which are bared to harsh sounds to escape him. Surprising and infuriating him, the other male stands his ground as Harry sizes him up, taking in the Alpha figure, shorter than Harry but much bulkier. His own Alpha takes control, calculating the best ways to take him down though he doesn’t get to act because he’s being yanked away by the collar of his shirt.

Instantly alerted of another presence, he snarls, turning to take down whoever dared to interfere with him protecting what belonged to him. It was another boy, small, but taller than his boy by mere inches with wide blue eyes that scream Did-I-Just-Do-That?! An easy enough opponent. Far off, he tries to stop himself because he doesn’t  _want_ this, he doesn’t even understand what is going on with him; all he can think is that the boy with blue, blue, so very blue eyes can’t even see the colour of his own. And these two think they can just take him away…or possibly hurt him.

He takes a warning step closer when someone blocks him, someone familiar. Zayn’s eyes, usually warm and teasing, are darker with something close to reluctance. “C’mon Harry. You don’t wanna do this. You’re not that much of an idiot.” I really, really don’t he thinks in frustration.

It takes every bit of self-control he possess to force his Alpha down, breathing rough and uneven as he fists his hair (with the hand that _isn’t_ being restrained by Zayn). The silence now is eerily tense, the only sounds are muted breaths, and well, “I’m not ‘bout to snap,” he bites, though he’s not so sure and it doesn’t help anything, at all.

The other Alpha, with the short cropped brown hair and almost…puppy-like brown eyes, stares at him intently, muttering, “Are you _quite_ finished?” Harry lurches for him, but finds himself stuck under Zayn (when the hell had he gotten anywhere near as strong as Harry?), growling under his breath. The prick must realise he isn’t answering to him because he looks over his shoulder at Zayn. “Is he?”

Zayn simply shrugs, sizing the Alpha up much the same as Harry (which is quite hard to beat, not to mention weird). Two Alphas on edge really shouldn’t be anywhere near each other, but hell, Harry is not just going to…The boy, Louis finally rises jerkily, eyes wide and unfocused. “ _…can’t see you.”_

“Um, Li…could you?” he speaks in that same, soft tone, completely unsure and the damn Alpha immediately goes for him…rather like an eager-puppy. Funny that.  Except no, it really _isn’t_ funny.

“You wanna leave, Lou?” Now the dirty-blonde scrambles forward, quickly retrieving all his –Louis’s fallen belongings, shoving them carelessly into his bag. Then Louis places his hand on the dirty-blondes shoulder, as if for guidance and Harry’s breath catches because he wants that…He wants to support the Omega. But that isn’t possible with that Alpha staring pointedly in warning and Zayn’s fucking paw digging into his upper arm.

Something weird (nothing new there) courses through him, suspiciously close to sadness as Louis nods at “Li, the precious puppy”…yet as the blonde tries to lead him away, the smaller lad stops dead, turning back half-way so that his eyes land straight on Harry, and he hopes he isn’t imagining how soft they are, looking at him. “Um…it was nice to meet you Harry.” And then he has to go and smile.

Once again, Harry doesn’t know what does it, the sweet smile or his name on the others pretty lips, but his heart does this weird thing, hammering so forcefully it’s hard to breathe. He doesn’t move at all, watching intensely, even after Louis is dragged away, he tries to wrap his head around what the bloody hell just happened. That’s why he gives no fight when Zayn tows him to the schools lot, shoving him with unnecessary force, into his car.

Zayn doesn’t speak for a while, though neither does Harry. He doesn’t know how long passes, but Zayn breaks the silence first.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

Harry winces because no, he really doesn’t. Zayn understands of course, because Zayn gets him and he gets Zayn, so it isn’t a surprise when the other mutters “right”, grabs the keys from his pocket and starts the car without another word.

They drive to Zayn’s and Harry has never been more grateful to see the familiar drive. But he still can’t find any words.

He says nothing all throughout dinner, letting Zayn’s sisters chatter distract him until, hours later, Zayn sits him on his bed with patient, but expectant eyes. And – “I…He’s mine…Or he will be…I-I want ‘im.” Well, if he sounds as lost as he feels, Zayn doesn't comment. Probably good on him too with how wound up he feels, like he's teetering on the edge of something...dangerous. Best mate or not, he can only go so far with his Alpha.

He doesn’t sleep at all that night. Instead he lies awake, exploring the heavy feeling in his chest until he becomes restless and has to _think_ about something, anything. Harry thinks and thinks and thinks about a gorgeous Omega with blue, _blue_ eyes that can’t even see. 

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=2w7ltug)


	2. Part Two:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's long overdue, so sorry guys!:) Might have some errors, again, so sorry, didn't have much time to edit (been a long week), but I added some Louis's POV!~
> 
> tell me how it goes~ .xx

Harry doesn’t see the boy again that week, but he can certainly feel him. It’s a warm buzz crawling along his skin, stronger whenever the boy gets too close. The “buzz”, as he’s taken to calling it, makes sure he knows where the Omega is at all times. He’s painfully aware and he _knows_ , but he never dares to pursue. It’s sheer determination that keeps him from storming through the halls and making sure Louis knows exactly who he belongs to; except, he doesn’t actually _belong_ to him, not yet anyway, so whenever his legs (traitors they are) unconsciously start in any direction of him, he forces himself to leave the school.

Running is possibly the worst part. It goes against every Alpha gene in him, but he knows there’s no way around it. Not when neither of them are ready to face their “problem”. Or well, maybe it's just him…Probably he thinks bitterly.

On the darker days, he humours himself with the idea that it’s all just a bad dream and he’ll wake up without both the buzz and the boy. But, as the weeks pass at the same slow pace, it isn’t so humorous anymore, _not one fucking bit._ In fact, every bloody day adds to his collection of snapped control cords.

Life begins to feel like some sort of personal hell, all screwed up and _wrong._ Most nights he doesn’t sleep, which he owes all to the restless buzz that stays with him twenty-four-fucking hours a day, jabbing and picking at him (urging him snap completely, he’s sure). And on the rare nights he _does_ get some sleep, it’s… _surreal,_ a joint connection to Louis in strange, flashy visions, none of which Harry can even manage to remember, much to his absolute frustration.

An entire two months pass before Harry finally, finally knows he can handle a proper conversation with the Omega. Well, maybe he can’t but he’s tired of trying so hard to reach the impossible. It’s driving him mad, he needs answers, he _needs_ to be sure of himself again.

 It’s Monday (which naturally means it’s one of the darker days, _naturally_ ) that Harry’s back where it all began –Lerwick’s Hell. Funnily enough, they’ve still not learnt a damned thing, but alas Harry doesn’t have the patience or energy to patronise the Beta anymore, so he figures they’ve called it a truce since the old bastard isn’t his usual stick-stuck-up-the-arse self lately. That or he realises Harry really wouldn’t hesitate to chew him up and spit him out like the nasty little – _alright,_ so the hostility is still there.

Once again, he isn’t listening when Lerwick announces they’re to work in pairs, but suddenly everyone is rearranging their seats –Zayn easily scooting closer to him until their shoulders knock lightly. With a hard blink, Harry slowly removes the hand covering his face, not bothering to focus on Zayn because he knows the concern is practically written on his face. And that’s the last thing he needs too see.

Instead, he tunes into the buzz that rolls over him in another vicious, invisible wave. The force of it has him groaning low in his throat, just barely keeping himself in his seat and not down the next hall and to the first left where the boy is. “You talk to ‘im yet?”

“What do you think?” he snaps, glaring with murder in his eyes because honestly, anyone with two eyes and some _sense_ (only some) would know he hasn’t gotten around to that particular yet.

“Oooh,” the other mocks. “Touchy are we?” And he could throttle him –there would be no remorse at this point. Besides, it isn’t as if his father couldn’t easily bail him out for anything. Murder not excluded.

Harry shakes his hair out in attempt to clear his fogged up thoughts, rolling his tense shoulders. When he answers, it’s low underneath the classes’ noisy chatter. “I dunno what to do at this point, Z…Honestly, I just want it all to go _away_.”

Zayn sighs, face visibly softening, which only makes his anger double. He doesn’t need an Omega's pity. “’m just sayin’ Haz, you should talk to him, get it over with.” How he makes it sound so easy is beyond him.

“And say _what?_ ” he demands sharply, voice rising a pitch, but not so much as to attract unwanted attention. “Oh, hey, I know I scared you half to death the other day, tried to murder your best mates, and went complete psycho on you, but would you fancy telling me why you’re literally buzzing inside me? Yeaahhh, real smooth.”

Zayn snickers beside him, as if it’s even remotely _funny._ And maybe, he thinks bleakly, Zayn is working with the universe to play some sick joke on him. Yeah, he wishes it were that simple.

The Omega leans closer, muttering, “Least you won’t have to defend your manly pride of summat, y’know, with all the threats and creepy growls.”

Could he have acted like more of an animal, he wonders in disgust. He’s never cared much for his Alpha, forever a feral, demanding part of him. It’s unbelievable that _that_ is what’s considered strong in their society.

“C’mon mate,” Zayn urges quietly. “This is fucking eating at you.” It’s so on point that Harry growls a bit, knowing if Zayn’s noticed, then much of the School has too. And Zayn seems to realise this because he pauses, but instead of taking the words back like any _normal best friend_ might’ve, he scratches at his scalp, in that usual calming manner. Except now it only fuels his irritation. “Just get it over with now so you can go back to being your usual dickhead self.”

Fuck, he really just wants Zayn to the shut up already. Nothing coming out of his mouth is making anything better, no, just so much _worse._ The words have his thoughts in a whirlwind of “what-if’s” because what-if this is _forever,_ what-if this boy happens to – “Yeah…Yeah, you’re right, gatta get it over with,” he mutters hastily, rubbing his eyes while sweeping the nagging thoughts under a mental-rug for later inspection, when he can’t sleep ( _again_ ).

“I usually am,” the other says. “But, can we get on with this bloody assignment before you start day-dreamin’ again?”

Harry’s already stopped listening though; planning out exactly how the conversation with his Omega will go.

“And you’re already gone,” the Omega grumbles, sounding anything but amused.   

 

**~~**

**-o-**

In the next hall to the first left Louis is trying desperately to _not think._ It’s his free hour, which usually he would never complain about, but it’s one of those times where he finds there is nothing to keep him busy. No homework, no obnoxious “assistant” trying to teach him the _proper_ posture or some other daft technique designed for the, as they call him, “visually impaired”. Nope, just the long, stretching _darkness._

It’s like that for a while, Louis resting his head in his arms, on that fine line between conscious and unconsciousness when the seat beside him yanks out of place, causing him to instantly tense up.  

“It’s just me twat,” he immediately recognises the strong Irish accent and relaxes, keeping his eyes shut because with Niall he doesn’t have to worry about keeping up the “normal” act. It’s funny, he thinks blankly, that everyone tries so hard to make him that way, especially when he _isn’t_ normal and probably never will be. Almost instantly he regrets the thought, his mood sinking deeper into that horribly familiar, horribly _muted_ sadness.

 “You’re late,” he mumbles matter-of-factly, needing the distraction. “ _Again.”_

“Yeah well,” the other grunts as he plops down, practically throwing his bag (with enough force that there’s a loud thump and Louis hides his face deeper in his sleeve, feeling nervous under the classes heavy stares) onto the table as he does so. “I was busy.”

Louis nods silently. It’s the same answer he always gets whenever Niall is late, which happens to be the majority of the time. The  Irish Omega  is one of his best mates so he doesn’t have to think too hard about the “what’s” and “whys” to know that the other just doesn’t want to talk about it around the prying, rich snots around them, claws out and waiting to sink into the first thing they hear.  Even so, Niall’s not the best at keeping secrets and he always ends up telling when they’re alone.

There’s a long pause before Niall leans closer to him. “He’s lookin’ for you Louis.” It’s meant to be a warning, that much is clear, but it doesn’t seem to matter because his head whips in the direction of the others voice.

His entire body is suddenly very alert, breathing coming fast as he does his best too look innocent or at least unconcerned. He hopes it works, though he can’t be sure, no matter how much he wills it, he still can’t see Niall’s expression. But, his body doesn’t seem to realise this because his eyes open anyway, widening in hopes of showing his absolute (note the sarcasm) confusion. “Whoever are you referring to Niall?”

There’s a disbelieving chuckle, but Louis doesn’t give up, frowning until, “You may be blind, but you’re not an idiot and I reckon you know _very_ well who ‘m talkin’ ‘bout dear Tommo.”

With that, his frown is real and he thinks he’ll need to work on his acting skills some time. “Your point is?”

“He is _looking for you Louis!”_

“I think we’ve established that Niall, but why’re you telling _me_?”

“Jus’ thought you’d rather me than Liam…”

At that, he winces, whispering shakily, “He knows…?”

“I reckon _everyone_ does,” Niall ponders and Louis fights the shiver of fear threatening to roll over him. That’s the last thing he wants to hear. “I mean, ‘arreh’s not exactly…well, let’s jus’ say it ain’t exactly a secret…” _Oh, no._

Louis closes his eyes against his panic, attempting to gather his scattered thoughts. But he’s really…confused, annoyed, enthralled?, with the whole ordeal. How can one Alpha out of an entire town be so much more…Alpha-y? He’s been around Alphas before, one of his best mates _is_ one, but Liam’s never tried to…well, _own_ him. It’s never been like that at all, with anyone.

Except Harry Styles, who’s avoided him for an entire _two months_ only to decide he suddenly wants to have a nice chat? Louis may be an Omega but he is _not_ some type of play-toy, nor does he _need_ Harry Styles in any way, shape or form, and the fact that all Alpha’s seem to have that mentality kind of infuriates him. Extremely so.

But, Louis actually isn’t an idiot so he knows that there is no escaping a fixated Alpha, not when that Alpha happens to be fixed on _him_. That’s just the way things are. Liam or no Liam, running or no running, stubborn or not, the Alpha won’t give up so, he figures he might as well figure out what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

 “What –,” _deep breath, Lou._ “What’s his story?”

“ _Lou –,”_

“Niall, please,” he pleads in a very small voice. “You know Liam’s he’s no good for you bit…I just wanna know ‘bout him. Ni, _please.”_

He holds his breath for an exact five seconds before Niall groans and Louis smiles widely, knowing he’s won. “Shit, fine, but if Liam asks –,”

Louis rolls his eyes fondly. “It wasn’t you! Yeah, yeah, yeah, now c’mon,” he urges, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

Niall sighs, seemingly annoyed, but Louis barely notices because then he’s talking, words fast and rushed. And yeah, Louis listens (with more fascination than he’d like) intently, which may or may not be a bit pathetic. Even for a blind Omega.

~~

-o-

Harry does absolutely nothing to stop it. The buzz is his shadow, the energy’s invisible wisps guiding –no dragging him in the Omega’s direction. With each step forward he can feel its choking hold on his lungs loosen, the length of his body crawls hotly with an unknown giddiness and the prior exhaustion evaporates into a void of nothingness. A smirk stretches his lips; he is completely content in his element.

It’s as if the damned connection _knows._ Actually, without a doubt it knows he is going for the boy, assuring him that he is in control of the situation. Any doubts are destroyed by the prospect. 

Both students and teachers begin to stare (with an annoying amount of interest) as he strides passed, not bothering to notice them. They are nothing to him. They do not matter, especially not when he's so, so close to his pretty Omega.

Hell, it’s been two bloody months too long. As much as he tries not to think about _that_ particular hell, packed with endless emptiness and confusion, he isn’t _that_ much in control of himself and the thoughts are still there, a constant reminder that he _hasn’t_ seen those gorgeous blue eyes in two months, he _hasn’t_ breathed in that fresh scent in two months, and more painfully, he _hasn’t_ felt the addicting current flit through his body just from the boy’s hesitant touch.

Apparently his Alpha has also recovered because it claws at his chest, demanding obedience. No surprise there, he thinks absently. It only takes minutes for him to cross the School’s campus (which is anything _but_ small), stopping just outside the Library’s entrance. The building is large, lacking windows but with an unnecessary amount of security cameras (you’d think there was gold or something life-changing inside) littered along the high walls.

Having never lingered about the campus (already having an impressive library in his father’s manor) means the Alpha is entering unknown territory, hence he probably _should_ be cautious of entering, but _no,_ instead he practically tears the bloody doors down to get inside.

More shocked (disapproving in the case of the protective librarian) stares go by unnoticed as he chases the buzz, legs carrying him confidently up a long staircase, passed the sitting areas, and into another room where rows of bookshelves take up the space.

 _To the side, far wall._ Instantly, he pivots, and well, he's yet to have been wrong by following the "mystical" buzz to his Omega. Everything sort of falls away when his eyes find their destination, a small figure on the carpet, legs folded, back to the…far wall. _Mine._ Those electrifying sparks ignite all over Harry’s body, the lights above begin to flicker suspiciously, finally dimming the room, but the freakish aspects to it don’t even register to his brain.

All he cares to focus on is Louis, the oh-so pretty Omega who he hasn’t seen in what feels like an eternity. And like a crack addict taking his first hit in two months, Harry drinks him in. _Fuck him, he’s beautiful._ The magnetic force beckons him closer, but his muscles are locked in place, breathing even as the crawling dissipates. It’s still there he knows, waiting until the boy leaves him again, but fuck it, until then, he doesn’t give. Not with Louis _right there,_ mere feet away.

Silently, Harry’s eyes fall to the thick book in his lap, where those thin fingers flow over the eccentrically patterned points. For the time he lets himself become entranced by the way those fingers create their own swift tempo, but too soon, they pause. And all good things must come to an end he supposes, his Alpha sensing that the boy is now aware of his presence.

The boy raises his head from the book, eyes fluttering open and yeah, fuck, that’s going to take some getting used to. The ocean-coloured eyes, though they can’t see him, have every part of him standing to attention (which really isn’t the safest of reactions, ‘specially not with the slight problem in his trousers). “Hi Harry.” His voice just as soft as the first time, a caress along Harry’s every sense. _God,_ it makes his heart hammer at his ribcage, a loud drumming in his ears.

And just like the first time, emotions are thrown at him, emotions that aren’t his own. This time however, the effect doesn’t alarm him (not as much at least) and he thinks he might as well before mentally opening himself to it –curiosity and hesitance. For the time there’s no trace of fear and involuntarily he smiles smugly, because that has to count for something. A very small victory, but a victory all the same.

Lost to his thoughts, every well-planned word he’d intended to use vanishes and stupidly he blurts, “Braille?”

The boy’s lips twitch, obviously fighting a smile. A smile that Harry abruptly craves to put there. More than almost anything. _What the bloody hell is he doing to me?_

“Done your homework then?”

Floundering a bit Harry shrugs, realising after a full five seconds of silence, Louis still can’t see him, no matter how sharp his eyes are. And of course he frantically spouts some shit to cover up how chillingly affected (more like idiot) he is. “I’ve been lookin’ for you…”

 _Smooth one Styles, real smooth._ The Omega winces, eyes dropping to the book almost self-consciously. “I know,” he breathes, disbelief colouring his barely-there tone. “Yeah, I know that.”

Harry rubs the back of his neck, caught off guard. “How…?” So much for being in my element, he inwardly mutters, frustrated with himself.

“’m blind, not deaf,” he grins, though it doesn’t make his eyes glow like they should. And though it’s meant as a joke, fury pulses through him because _no._ Nothing about his lovely Omega being unable to see is a _joke._ Never too him. Louis continues obliviously, “You do realise that half the School’s talkin’ about the blind Omega who’s somehow managed to get “badboy” Harry Styles’ attention.”

A dangerous red fogs his vision at the words (as if Louis isn’t _worthy_ enough), and his Alpha bites back with the intent of hunting down whatever moron dared to talk about Louis that way. “Who said it?” he demands before he even thinks about the words.

Louis flinches, fighting his submissive nature and Harry really, really wishes he could hurt something (preferably himself). “I –Would you please stop doing that?” he mumbles, voice cracking with fear that hits Harry not even a second later.

Damn it, Louis isn’t supposed to be afraid of _him._ Except maybe he should be, because though his Alpha would never intentionally hurt him, Harry’s always been more dominant, more _unstable,_ than the others. And it’s never safe for anybody, especially not himself. Then again, when is anything?

Discipline, he reminds himself, guardedly approaching the smaller lad, it’s all about discipline. Then he gracefully (meaning his legs tangle awkwardly to fit the tight space) sides the boy, who again flinches. Yeah, Harry wishes he could tell his Alpha to just fuck off already.

“I’m…sorry?” it comes out like a question, but it’s the best he can do. As an Alpha, Harry isn’t used to having to apologise to anyone, but for Louis, everything seems to be an exception. “It’s harder to control than you probably think.”

The other gives a nervous giggle, so soft that Harry wonders how a proper laugh would sound. He reckons a lovely (because it  _is_ indeed Louis –and well, that’s explanation enough), high-pitched tenor. “N-no, I get it…Just, ‘m not used to the whole Alpha bit. I mean, with Liam –,”

 _Liam…_ He knows that name…?  _Li…short for Liam,_ the puppy-eyed Alpha. At the name he stiffens, gritting his teeth against a growl. That’s the prick alright, the one who took his Omega away, the one whose hands were  _on his Omega,_ the one that Harry can imagine –, “You good there, um Harry? You’ve gone all still and like, I can’t see but…”

The words are laced with anxiety, enough that Harry takes himself back to safer grounds, unlocking his shoulders too ease the boy, squeezing his eyes shut because yeah, keeping his cool is turning out to be more difficult than he’d first assumed (unbelievable, it is).

“We don’t have to do this y’know,” Louis starts unexpectedly.  _Huh?_   _“_ We can just pretend we never met. You can go ‘bout being the town’s badboy and I’ll be…Louis.” Just like Zayn's earlier words, it sounds so simple. As if.

Harry’s about to tell him that when –“Why would we do that?” The thought that Louis wants to forget him slashes at his pride. Still, when he looks back to the boy, he’s smiling shyly, and this time it  _does_ reach his eyes. And Harry hates to be some shit cliché  _but_ it takes his breath away ( _quite_ literally).

“Listen, I get it yeah? Like the Alpha instinctively wants to help the feeble little blind Omega, but I’m not…I’m not some charity case. I’ve been this way long as I can remember ‘n I can take care of myself without…” his Alpha is inwardly snarls _don’t say it,_ but the boy says it anyway, of course. “Without you.” Well  _fuck,_ okay then.

It’s been thirty minutes and he’s taken more blows to his pride since his recognition as an Alpha. A part of him should be right pissed, but it’s impossible when he knows how inadvertent it is on the other’s part.

So, he just speaks slowly, “You’re not a charity case Lou.”

The Omega exhales heavily –his weary exhaustion settling over the Alpha, whose direct impulse to wrap himself around the smaller, to hide him from his problems, but Harry won’t, knowing he is the problem. “Then what do you want?”  _Everything_. It’s the blunt truth. He wants to keep all of Louis, but hell if he says so out loud. No, he refuses to screw up and scare the boy away before he’s even actually had him. Fuck that.

“I want…” he forces the next words. “I want to be your friend.” The words are pale,  _not enough._ Never enough.

Jerkily, Louis twists, in the process bringing them closer, so Harry’s eyes bore into the now stormy blue colour, tinged with gray suspicion.  He swallows tightly, his body (which had finally just adjusted to the boy’s electric current) tenses once again, catching that sweet scent only recognisable as  _Louis’s scent._

“Don’t look so suspicious,” he murmurs evenly, but without the slight Alpha timbre. “This has nothing to do with your eyesight. Trust me it’s the _least_ of my interests. You, however,  _do_ interest me very much, so let’s start over yeah? Tell me, Louis, how can you possibly read  _that?”_   The sureness seeps into his tone, but he won’t bend entirely to one little boys wants. He’s an Alpha, and he’s making sure it’s known.

Even though he has already, because he is much  _more_ than interested in the Omega, but he’ll keep that particular to himself. For now, he can cope with that. 

Eyebrows furrowed, the boy’s gaze falls back to the book, but just as quickly they’re back on Harry, a brilliant smile on his pink lips.  _There’s that fucking jolt again._

“Oh, the Braille? It’s a rather simple concept actually…” he remarks. “I like to think these books were made for me.”

Harry isn’t beyond agreeing as he licks his lips, leaning forward the slightest of fractions (pathetically) absorbed by the boy’s secretive look. “Yeah?” he breathes, all the while marveling at the brighter blue of his iris’ (there’s no helping it, not when he’s so close). “That’s pretty presumptuous of you.”

“Nope,” Louis grins impishly. _Mine._ Now his Alpha memorizes his features, soaking up every sharp attribute. “Not when the actual creators name was Louis.”

Wait, Harry blinks, lost, then oh, right, Braille. “Smart cookie, aren’t you?”

Still grinning that grin, he blinks owlishly. “Actually, Alphaboy, as an Omega who’s quote disabled unquote, ‘m your absolute inferior, so it is imperative that you don’t spend too much time ‘round the likes of me. Might do some severe harm and we can’t ‘ave that now can we?”

Harry needs to leave. Now, otherwise he’s going to grab the boy by his slim, sharp hips and yank him close. So close that his mouth will brush the soft skin of his temple as he tells him exactly how much more he is than any bloody Alpha out there.  Tell him – Right, leaving, he reminds forcefully, but before he has the chance to act on it (he was, really) something pings in the boys bag and his eyes go wide.

“Crap, crap, crap,” he mutters, anxiety sharps spikes around Harry’s skin. “I’ve just remembered the lads are expecting me home by now!”  Clumsily, he stuffs his book (on backwards) into his bag, slinging the leather over his shoulder to stand with one hand flattened on the wall.

Harry shoves a hand through his hair, determined to make that peculiar sensation in his chest go away. It only builds though, tearing through (any of) his composure as he rises in a fluid motion. The boy looks up through thick lashes, bottom lip caught between his sharp canines. Without permission, his eyes fix on those lips, wondering…always wondering how they’d feel caught between his own canines, if – “Um, it was… _interesting_ talking to you Harry.”

Harry freezes, internally panicking at both his thoughts and the fact that Louis is actually leaving. Leaving without protection, or any indication of when he will see him again (not that he wouldn’t just track him anyway), and the buzz is fizzing all over him – “Let me walk you home.” A plus Styles, possibly the best thing you’ve said all day.

The boy winces, something too close to panic flashing in his eyes. “Another time, I’ve a car waiting below already. If you –,” he takes a deep breath, small tongue flitting over his lip. “If you’ll meet me tomorrow, you can walk me home.” Harry swallows, hoping that the promise there isn’t his imagination.  The boy steps aside, hand discreetly feeling the air in front of him, and the Alpha can see (sharp as Harry’s vision is) that he’s as reluctant to leave as he is for him to go.

 _Mine._ “Tomorrow then.” This time, it is a promise.

Louis gives another pretty smile, but it’s smaller this time. “Till then Alphaboy.” Then he’s striding away, down the hall, with the least bit of concern (which Harry winces at) hand running along the wall. Once he’s out of sight, the numb curls in, fitting his frame once more.  

Harry doesn’t know or care how long passes as he stands there, shoulders tense, fingers flexing in agitation. A sense of loss accompanies the buzz and a small voice, unlike his Alpha, whispers _let it go._ Let it go…Sounds extremely easy, yet he continues to stare down that hallway, consumed with _wants,_ all of which will (eventually, that is) come from an Omega, who happens, by some off chance, to completely fuck with his head, in a positively thrilling sort of fucked up way.

And he is perfectly content with staring like an idiot when his phone buzzes impatiently in his pocket. For a moment, he just stays still, prepared to let it ring out, but after about ten more insistent calls, he curses, snatching (with perhaps a bit too much effort. Not to self, looser skinnies) the damned thing up and blindly swipes the screen.  “Who is it?”

 “Your father,” the cool voice is reminder enough. “Do be back in an hour, we have… _pressing_ matters to discuss.” The line disconnects and Harry growls under his breath, somehow managing to refrain from throwing the phone into a wall (it’s his third one, and he’s tired of having to buy new ones). Instead, he strides out of the building in large steps.

In his car, he stares blankly ahead, calculating what his next move will be. It doesn’t take long to decide there’s no point in putting off his father any longer, least he comes looking for him again, which would just add to his problems. Mechanically he starts the engine, not even slightly calmed by its purr.

Before he pulls out, he can’t help but smile a bit, knowing (despite his edginess) he’ll be back here tomorrow. And so will his Omega. The thought alone makes it easier to breathe.

It’s all that matters. Nothing but seeing, speaking, hell, nothing but _Louis_ seems to matter overly much anymore.

_What is he doing to me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? c:


	3. Part Three;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my favourite chapter yet...took me ages, so I hope you all love it as much as I currently do! *jumps up & down w. excitement*
> 
> .xx

“Good evening, Mr. Tomlinson.” The monotonous voice is one Louis knows all too well by now. Dermot Lyon is the first of his Mothers endless efforts to ensure her only son’s safety. The Beta has served as his personal watchdog since Louis was twelve, tolerating no-nonsense from anyone, especially not Louis himself –who, after a year or two of groundings, learnt his efforts to be adventurous were hopeless. He was simply doomed to a life of complete _boredom._

“Hello Dermot,” Louis greets quietly, allowing the Beta to guide him into the passenger side of the car with a curt nod in thanks. The lack of conversation isn’t unusual between them so it doesn’t bother him that the only reply he gets is the door clicking shut beside him.

Inside, he keeps his head bowed low, lost in his thoughts. Concentrating, he squeezes his eyes shut tighter, replaying the short conversation over and over in attempt to decipher some sort of sense from it. But, for the first time in the longest, he finds himself at a complete loss. There’s just not any possible way to figure out this Alpha from one crummy conversation –his voice was too distracting, deep and syrupy slow, it stuck like molasses without giving any hints towards his character or his intentions.

That alone shoots unease through him, the threat settling over his skin. Nervously, he chews at his bottom lip, inwardly refusing to let up, there has to be _something_ to piece together. One of London’s most sought after Alphas (the son of an extremely wealthier Alpha) didn’t just decide, out of the blue, that one Omega was more significant than the next…No, he thinks surely, there’s more to it. There just has to be.

Ten minutes later, he manages to gather three (rather meaningless, but it’s still _something)_ points:

One: Harry Styles is entirely, down to his very core, an Alpha –which, okay, Louis already knows but it’s always a proper reminder as to _why_ it would be completely reasonable to keep his distance.

Two: Louis is more than a bit terrified of him –within good reason too, because in the two times he’s been around the other, it’s like all his control vanishes with his senses and his wits and –That’s never happened to him before, not because of one freakin’ person.

Three: Harry really, really dislikes Liam –which, okay can be somewhat funny, or would be if it wasn’t painfully obvious that the two of them (Liam, civil as he might be, isn’t totally innocent either) wouldn’t hesitate to tear the other’s limb right off.

Well, he thinks wryly, there’s that. Finally his common sense screams for him to forget the name Harry Styles even exists, but it’s far too late for second thoughts now, there’s no way he can just let this go. He realises there isn’t a way out; he’s properly tangled in the confusing adventure called Harry.

He could blame his actions all on his submissive side, the Omega part of him that would do possibly anything to please an Alpha. A part of him that is just barely able to resist an Alpha’s will…He could, but it would be a pointless lie, and Louis, as exposed to that certain betrayal as he is, refuses to lie about his own silly interest. Besides, he reassures himself for what feels like the hundredth time, this particular “anything” is only a walk home, nothing more, nothing less. For now, it’s all he’s can cling too.

“Did you manage to complete that essay with the proper help then?” Startled by the sudden intrusion, his head whips around, facing the sound. _Essay?_ At the question, his thoughts scatter in another direction and his mouth opens to blurt the truth: that essay’s been handed in for weeks.  Before the words escape though, he bites the inside of his cheek –this is Dermot, he steels himself, Dermot who’s unaware (thank the gods) of the fact that he hadn’t actually stood after school to talk with a teacher about _that_ essay.

“Oh,” he fumbles hastily, mouth abruptly very dry. It’s much easier to text a lie than speak it. “Um, yeah. The a-argument was strong enough after all…T-That was what I was, um, a bit worried about…” For a terrible liar (but only that), he likes to think he’s convincing enough.

“So you received the help you needed, yes?” Louis swallows, startled by the amount of conversation. He isn’t used to it; Dermot’s never been the most voluble, and Louis…Louis is accustomed to the solitude, comfortable with it. Except now, he wrings his hands on his lap, squirming at the sinking feeling in his chest.

“Yes.”

There’s a beat of tense silence before, “Your eyes are shut.” And well, he could have guessed something like that was coming. It always comes back to his vision.

“I know,” he says automatically, though unlike most days, he can’t bring himself to even open them, instead, he squeezes them tighter again, encased in the darkness.

“You know your Mother would be quite disappointed by that. Miss Tabitha even more so…”  The mention of his mum has guilt flooding through him. To him Jay is the most wonderful mum in the entire universe, a Mother who has only ever cared for each and every one of her five children, a Mother who loves them unconditionally –no matter the faults. A mother he would never intentionally hurt.

Instantly, he lifts his heavy lids and…more darkness. “I know,” he mumbles honestly. “Sorry.”

Mercifully, before Dermot can make another comment, the car comes to a halt. Relieved, Louis’s hands fall to the seat-belt where he unclips and waits for the Beta to help him out.

“Thanks,” he says once he’s on his feet again, head bent in shame. It’s been ages since he’s acted out, since he’s let his disability affect his life or family in any way, which makes the bother so much worse now.

“Head up.” A strange, heavy impulse flares up in him. An impulse that tells him to pull away, to close his eyes, to just _quit_ relying on the bloody strategy, and he hesitates, until not even a second later, he obeys the other. He doesn’t let himself think it’s because he’s afraid of the unknown. Nope, that can’t be it.

The Beta firmly places his limp hand over the sleeve of his forearm and begins to guide him towards the front door. They stop there, where Dermot unlocks so that he immediately places his hand on the handle, glad for escape (his sisters are still in school and mum, as usual, is working). Before he can open the door, the Beta is speaking again. “Liam’s inside, so you’re aware. I shall see you all in the morning. Have a pleasant night, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis just nods uninterestedly. It’s not even minutes after he has shut the door behind him, shrugged off his school blazer, and toed his shoes, that it begins.

“You were out with him weren’t you?” At the accusing tone Louis nearly jumps out his skin. Jeez, he thinks, swallowing a yelp, can’t anything stay a _secret?_

“And why would you assume that?” he mutters, as if it’s completely unreasonable.

“Louis –,” the Omega lets out a harsh breath, glaring in the general direction of Liam’s ‘I-Know-What’s-Best-For-You’ tone.

 _“_ Liam. Please, don’t start with this,” he doesn’t bother to stop the exhaustion in his tone from leaking. He just really wants a cuddle without the twenty questions, is that so very much to ask?

“No, Louis, this is not some sort of _game!_ I know –.”

“Know what?” Louis demands, aggravated with the way everyone, even his best mate, continues to treat him like a child. “What is so bloody wrong with him? _Please,_ tell me since you seem to know everything!”

With a deep sigh, the other trudges over to him, grabbing ahold of the smaller-lads hand. Louis doesn’t protest when Liam pulls him up the staircase, and into his room, where he sits on his bed, arms crossed petulantly.

“All right, listen.” Louis barely keeps from sticking his tongue out, like one of the twins would do. “Harry Styles isn’t someone to mess about with, Lou. He’s got a nasty attitude and…and his father is very powerful. Some big-wig with the council up in London! I’ve seen the way he acts! He –He’s no good for someone like you.”

 _Someone like you._ Louis knows Liam doesn’t mean it in a bad way. Liam knows who Louis is –knows that Louis is completely _happy_ with who he is…But, they both know how everyone must see him. And there is possibly nothing that has hurt him more over the years.

He does his best to keep it off his face, but his eyes sting helplessly with tears, bottom lip wobbling. Liam, inquisitive as he is, notices because he pulls the smaller boys frame closer, into his side, where Louis cuddles, closing his eyes in order to focus on breathing evenly.

“You know I didn’t mean it that way…I just –I don’t want to see you get hurt, not by some self-centered Alpha who thinks he’s your superior or that you _need him._ ‘Cause I know you Lou and you don’t need anyone, despite what they think. You don’t get enough credit sometimes. You are _so much better_ than any of them…”

Louis’ answering smile is watery, but he nods anyway, not yet ready to argue that Harry _is_ different because right now, he isn’t one hundred percent positive on that. He wants to believe it, more than anything else, but for now, he decides to just give the other a try.

With that, he lets himself fully sink into Liam’s support, completely worn out. “Can we just…cuddle…and nap? ‘M so tired of arguing about this.”

The other lays him down, wrapping his arm around Louis’ waist comfortingly. “All right, Lou.”

Just like that, it’s over, except _that_ warm feeling becomes heightened again, the feeling that spreads tingles over his skin and butterflies fluttering down his ribcage to his belly. The feeling that tells him it’s only just the beginning.

~~  
-o-

At the iron gates of his father’s extravagant manor, Harry grimaces, hands tightening on the steering-wheel as the gates pull smoothly open. As he starts up the stretchy drive, a strange sense of debility shoots through him, the only reason he goes against his “dickhead-ed” ways by entering the manor a _minute_ later than the hour (there’ll be plenty more chances to test his father’s nerves though, so it’s not as disappointing).

Swinging his keys in one hand, he ambles over to the (unnecessarily huge) entrance, though, as usual, he doesn’t even lift a hand before the doors swoop open, revealing one of the many butlers his father employs. The male, a Beta, stands rod-straight, expressionless as Harry smirks sloppily at him.

“Your father has requested your presence in his office, Mr.  Styles,” the butler intones, and the Alpha knows he isn’t imagining the slight distaste colouring his ever-so-stoic voice. None of the staff housed in the Styles manor are especially fond of him –which really isn’t much of a shocker. By now, Harry’s learnt he’s an “acquired taste” of sorts.

He doesn’t bother to respond; instead he starts up the spiral staircase, going over the three principles governing his relationship with his father. It’s all he relies on to maintain his good humor and sanity in general.

One: they don’t converse unless absolutely necessary.  
Two: all absolutely necessary conversations are kept as brief as possible.  
Three: Always keep a safe distance away from the manor, or better yet, the older Alpha.

Stopping at the door, Harry taps his foot, used to feeling like a stranger here. It’s been seven years since his Mother had decided he was in need of a “fatherly” figure or some other bullshit he’d long ago blocked out of his memory. Seven long years of bitter, empty words and hallways and –

Screw the self-fucking-pity, he thinks cynically, mustering what’s left of his self-restraint to knock on the door instead of going right in.

“Enter!”  _Fuck off first_ he mentally spits.

Working his jaw, Harry pushes the heavy oak-wood door open to step inside. Straight ahead, his father sits behind his desk, typing something on his laptop.

Leaning lazily on the doorframe he waits for the older Alpha too look up. When he doesn’t, he clears his throat pointedly.

No response.

Harry coughs.

Again, nothing.

His hands curl into fists, jaw working harder, against a growl. This is his father’s routine –ignore him just long enough to act as a reminder that he’s not worth the attention.

Which naturally drives him to act up. Silently fuming, he pulls his phone from his pocket, making sure the volume is the highest it can possibly go before typing out a random message to a random number, letting the annoying little chink-chink-chinks fill up the silence.

As expected, his father looks up immediately. “Enough,” he snaps.

Harry quirks a brow, but locks the phone and shoves it back into his pocket.

“And stand up straight,” the other continues. “Hell, how many times ‘ave I told you I will not tolerate such shoddy behaviour?” _Enough._

Harry waits a second, letting the satisfaction soak up in his pores before asking, “Do you want me to actually answer that, or was it a rhetorical question?”

His father’s teeth grind noticeably.

At that, the younger swallows, realising he (probably) shouldn’t have said it, not when he knew that his deliberately uncaring tone would infuriate the older. But sometimes (okay, a lot of the time then. Who the hell is counting?) it's so damned hard to keep his mouth shut. He’d spent years trying to win his father’s approval, and finally given up. There was no pleasing the older Alpha.

Still, he takes more than some satisfaction in making the old bastard miserable as he makes him. There’s no helping it.

“I’m surprised you’re here.”

Harry blinks in confusion. “You told me to come.” And the miserable truth is –he’s never defied his father before. Not really anyway. He pokes, he prods, he adds a touch of arrogance and I-Don’t-Give-Two-Fucks to his every statement and action, but…he keeps up the reputation his father expected of him, never behaving with out-and-out defiance.

Fucking pathetic you are, his Alpha snarls. Or maybe it’s the burrowed (deep, deep, deep, he cannot stress how deeply burrowed it is) self-hatred. He isn’t sure he even cares to know.

In his mind, he fights back. In his mind, he insults the bastard every day, but in reality, his defiance is limited to not showing up to important (yeah right) events and annoying habits.

“I know that,” his father mutters, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Nonetheless, I never issue an order with the expectation that you, _of all the dupes,_ will follow it correctly. You so rarely do.”

Harry bites back another sarcastic remark.

All the while, the other stands and walks to the nearby bar-stand; where he keeps his hoard of liquor. “You must be wondering what this is all about.”

 _No shit._ He says nothing.

When the older turns around again, there’s a glass of Whiskey and coke in his hand. Harry just barely keeps his face void of emotion. “I’ve a way to make you of proper use to me.” _Fan-fucking-tastic._

The younger growls under his breath, about to tell his father to just piss off (which, yeah, he’d regret that later) when the male looks at him directly for the first time. “You are to seduce and date one of my rivals.”

“ _What_?” He nearly gags on the word.

“Tomorrow, you will make a trip to London, where they are holding a surprise birthday party for her.” Hell no he wouldn’t. “She’s an excellent match anyway,” his father continues. “Lovely little Omega. You’ll have her wrapped around your…Well, it’ll be simple.”

“Who?” the word is a raspy whisper. At the weakness in his voice, he inwardly cringes, sickened with himself.

 “Hmm?”

“Who,” he repeats, this time louder than necessary. He doesn’t care who hears, not at this point.

“Oh, yes. Caroline Flack,” the other answers matter-of-factly.

Fury runs over his body, thick and searing, making his temples throb and his fingers tremor.

“She’s at joint with that television corporation,” he adds.

As if Harry hasn’t already figured that. “But Caroline’s –,”

“She’s pretty enough, I’m sure.”

“But Father, Caroline is –.”

“I’ve already accepted the invitation for you,” his father states. “It’s done, you’re going.”

The words, concrete and cold, drain his building fury. This isn’t happening, he thinks numbly. Not now. Not when he needs to prove himself to his pretty Omega. Not _fucking_ now.

“I can’t sleep with Caroline.” _She’s not for me._  

One of his father’s bushy brows inches towards his hair-line. “You can, and you will.”

“No, I can’t,” he repeats hollowly. “She is…she’s…” _Not him, not the blue eyed Omega. She is_ not Louis.

“Older?” the idiot finishes, chuckling. “Won’t really make a difference when you’re fucking her. And anyway, once the contracts have been signed you can just do away with her.”

 _Do away with her._ At one time Harry imagines that wouldn’t have sounded so fucked up, _so wrong_. At one time, it might’ve just been a good, quick shag that had no affect on him at all…But not anymore, probably never again. In the course of two months, his life has become an amass of crystalline complications.

Every fragment of his being longs to be nothing _less_ than good enough for Louis. Longs to prove to the other that he _can_ be more than what everyone seems to think, that he can be charming and kind and loyal and just all the things that Louis deserves.

“Well, now that that’s settled, you may go back to whatever it is you were doing before.”

Lost to the numb revelation Harry does the only thing he can think to do without shredding his self-control: he turns without another word. Perfunctorily, he unlocks the door, limbs moving in the opposite direction.

“And Harry?”

He doesn’t test himself to look back, but he pauses for a brief second, not really listening to what the older is about to say. “Don’t disappoint me again, boy.”

“Whatever,” he snaps, voice dismissive.  

It feels like an eternity before he finds himself in the cold recesses of his spacious bedroom, wall-to-floor windows veiled by thick curtains, carpets cleaned immaculately by nameless maids. An eerie quiet charges the room, but he can’t bring himself to notice as he sits on the bed, staring intently at the ink embedded into the skin of his wrist. _I can’t change._ It holds as much significance as it had when he’d first requested it…Yet staring now, an endless tired falls over him. Toeing off his worn boots, he leans back onto the too-large mattress, hands tangled behind his head.

There he gazes up at the high-ceiling, not surprised to find blue eyes staring back at him in the darkness. Except on this night they’re distant… _indifferent_ to him. They know he thinks, breathing coming quicker. _He_ knows how much of an ignominy Harry is to his family, how he follows his father’s every damn command and can’t even speak to his Mother. Those eyes know he isn’t good enough. 

No matter how much he wants to be, he isn’t (not right now at least). Louis deserves _everything._ And Harry vows (to the silence or to himself, he can’t tell) to try harder, to be that _everything._

It’s bizarre and slightly unnerving, all things completely unnatural that Harry would make a promise so binding, because he never has before. Then again, he’s starting to believe with just one glance Louis has made a change in him.

An irreversible change.

-o-

~~

The next morning Harry leans against the bonnet of his car beside Zayn. They’re both comfortable with the solid hush for a while; lost to their own thoughts.

There’s an hour left before school actually starts, but the Alpha is used to being up so early, especially lately, with the dreams –the dreams so vivid Harry can’t seem to keep ahold of more than flashes, mostly echoes of _sounds_ here and there.

Even now, as he stares at nothing in particular, searching the deepest crevasses of his mind, there is _nothing._

“What happened last night?”  Zayn’s low voice severs his concentration. With a harsh blink, he finds the other has pulled out a brand new packet of cigarettes.

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t answer any of my texts.” _Shit, right._

He winces, but offers a lame, “sorry.” Zayn shrugs half-heartedly, pulling a fag from the box before offering one to the other. Unlike most days, Harry takes one, desperate, as he lights, to inhale the toxins deep into his lungs, to exhale the heaviness in his chest.

“Somethin’ happen with your dad last night?” Though the question isn’t exactly a shock, mindlessly, Harry flinches, taking another heavy drag from the stick between his fingers in response. Zayn is the only other soul who has witnessed the hatred his father holds for him first hand, the only other soul who knows just how bad it’s gotten in the past two years.

“How’d you figure that?” he exhales slowly, relaxing his shoulders.

“The only people I’ve ever seen work you up is that moron and Louis…And since things were sorted with Louis, it wasn’t so hard to guess.” 

The lankier nods, keeping his gaze straight ahead, not yet ready to bring up Caroline or his Father, not even too Zayn.  He just hasn’t processed it all; he just needs to get his shit together first.

“Not yet?”   _Not ever._

Harry doesn’t tell the other that, instead he nods again as he inhales the fag once more, hands shaking dangerously. But he refuses to lose it. Not over this.

“Ok then. All right,” Zayn mutters seriously. “Whatever it is Haz, we’ll figure it out.” And Harry does not doubt it, not after all the years of bullshit they’ve gone through together. 

 _We’ll figure it out._ Those words stay with him through the rest of the day.

In the halls, between classes, Harry makes it his mission to seek out the small Omega, though it turns out to be pointless ( _extremely_ so). When he follows the buzz, it’s too late, and the boy has already entered his class. At lunch, he sits in his car with Zayn, where he tells the other about the Caroline problem –to which Zayn spits, “Fuckin’ prick doesn’t give you a break. Whatever, like I said, we’ll figure it out.” Almost instantly, the weight over his chest lifts, though Zayn breaks the ease by starting up his (shit) rap music. He’ll burn those CD’s one day he thinks. Or maybe he won’t. Probably won’t.

Then, its finally last hour, which he spends watching the clock (willing the damned thing to just move _faster_ ), unable to even comprehend anything besides the humming sensation, that seems to be getting progressively tenacious (it’s got to be bad for his sanity, honestly). By the time the dismissal bell rings, Harry’s already out of his seat and storming through the horde of students in the hall, completely ignoring his teacher’s shouts for him to “come back this instant, Mr. Styles!” As if.

Excitement surges through his veins, smothering his previous irritation –his worries. Trailing the buzz, Harry slows his pace once he’s inside the (partially empty) library, until he reaches the same room from the day before, though this time, his Omega isn’t alone. There’s a brunette woman, younger than most teachers, but older than the students, who situates bulky books and paperwork into a neat pile. The two seem to be in deep conversation.

Intrigued, Harry remains silent, leaning lazily on the doorframe as he embraces the current –catching the boy’s emotions in the process –anticipation and impatience with a trace of unease. Like always, the Alpha wonders what makes him feel the way he does. Curiously, his gaze falls back to the Omega, who faces away from him, noticing for the first time, that he isn’t dressed entirely in uniform. Instead of the white button-up underneath the school’s navy blue blazer, his delicate shoulders are covered in a thick, white woolen jumper, shorter legs in the mandatory chinos and a pair of clean white plimsolls on his feet to match.

“Until our next session then Louis,” the woman’s voice, light but with an undertone of professionalism, breaks Harry from his reverie. Wordlessly, the boy nods in farewell, oblivious to the way the woman pauses briefly, peering down at him with eyes that lack any hope, apologetic eyes. Instantly, the look makes him uncomfortable because Louis isn’t hopeless, Louis _is_ hope.  And by now, everyone should know that.

Sighing, the Beta grips her neat pile and starts in his direction. As she’s passing, Harry straightens, completely missing the questioning look she gives because he’s already walking away. His boots make muted thuds on the carpet as he approaches, though he hardly hears anything beyond the constant _thrum thrum thrum_ of his own heartbeat.

The magnetic impulse implodes deep within Harry’s bones, muscles tensing as his body lights in flames. _Mine,_ the word (one he can’t stop thinking, even if he tried) is fierce in his mind as he catches sight of the smaller boy’s face, chestnut fringe hanging limply over his forehead, eyes shut so that thick lashes cast shadows over his sharp cheekbones. Ethereal, the Alpha decides, that is what this boy is.

“How long have you been here?” His voice, ever-so-quiet, settles over the Harry’s chest. It’s a delicious, reassuring weight.

“Not too long,” he murmurs, voice casual despite everything. Careful not to startle to other, he takes the vacated seat directly in front of him, hands splaying over the fabric of his trousers, on his thighs. “Who’s the woman?”

 _Discomfort –_ it surges from the smaller, who inhales sharply, eyes tightening. “Does it matter?”

Harry blinks, eyebrows creasing. “I suppose not,” he answers slowly. “But I would still like to know.”

The boy’s mouth turns down in a frown. “But –why?”

With a devilish grin, he leans closer, enough that he catches that saccharine fragrance seeping from Louis’s pores, inhaling deeper. His warmth even carries, Harry thinks in awe, keeping his voice even with effort. “Ah, ah, ah,” he murmurs. “I asked first. You answer mine, ‘n I’ll answer yours.”

Once again the boy’s lips twitch, fighting a smile. “And if I don’t? Answer your question, I mean.” _Hmm, so he wants to play?_

“Shall I persuade you?”  His voice becomes scratchy with suggestions. He gazes, through hooded eyes, as the boy catches his lower lip between his sharp canines, hands wringing in his lap.

 _Let up,_ his conscious shouts, abruptly aware of Louis’ unease. To cover the lapse in control, he speaks carefully, “If you don’t …I will still answer you.” And it’s true; just the notion of telling Louis no seems rather difficult.

“But then…” he trails, voice a pitch higher than normal. “Okay…Okay, but promise not to tease me please…? I –Just, don’t…?” _Fear,_ it trickles through the Omega as he hugs his knees to his chest. In that defensive, enclosed pose, sharp eyes hidden, he looks that much smaller, vulnerable even.

Harry’s fingers dig into his thighs as he struggles with the urge to hide his little Omega from the world, to guard him, to – _stop it._ “No teasing, I promise.” He wants to assure himself that it isn’t that bad, but then again, he never knows what goes where with Louis. It’s fascinating and frustrating all at once.

Louis takes a deep breath, hiding his face in his hands (which is quite adorable considering the sleeves of his jumper reaches the tips of his fingers, in jumper-paws). Harry holds his breath, waiting. “She’s my assistant,” the words are muffled, but it makes no difference too him, listening intently.

 _That’s all…?_ He blinks once, then, before he can help it, barks out a relieved laugh. _Thank fuck._ For the first time that day, the Omega’s eyes snap open, the blue a darker storm, flashing with kittenish ( _adorable._ He swears some bastard above is having fun, listening to his horribly besotted thoughts) fury.

“You promised,” the boy hisses. “I can’t believe you.” Abruptly, he stands, hands flailing over the countertop in search of his bag, which is on the floor (but saying so wouldn’t be exactly helpful). Leave it to me, Harry thinks, sobering up right away.

Impulsively he shoots to his own feet, gripping the boy’s thin wrist in two fingers. The rapid contact sends a blazing rush of endorphins up Harry’s arm. A throaty hiss rips from his lips, but with force, he retracts his hand, though his legs are fixed in place with no intention of backing off (once again, _traitors, they are)._ Louis –still frozen, stares up at him with those wide, equally as startled, blue eyes and parted lips that release little puffs of air.

It’s so still that Harry can make out the boy’s stuttering heartbeat (which worries him…Did he scare him so badly?), but before he acts idiotically (more so than he already has, that is) the beat steadies. The next of his thoughts consist of _oh fucks,_ and _he’s so bloody gorgeous, it literally has the power to kill._

“Don’t leave,” he breathes gently, almost pleading. Right now, with his Alpha mentally locked away, there’s no help, it’s all _him;_ his fuck-up to fix. “Please, I promise I wasn’t teasing. I was just…relieved. I’d come to the worst possible conclusions, and that…well, it isn’t awful at all.”

For a tense moment, the other remains motionless until finally, he blinks. “Um,” he says, a bit breathless. “What?”

Harry refuses to be deterred. “Please, Louis,” he presses, staring intensely into his eyes –an easy thing to do, with eyes so deep–willing the smaller with their intensity, even if the boy is unable to see it. “Stay.”

Ever-so-slowly, the other nods. In triumph, Harry grins, though it lasts only a moment because Louis’ eyes light with realisation which _really can’t_ be any good. “Wait –What was your worst possible conclusion then?”

He groans spectacularly. “Uh, I dunno…Secret hot older lover perhaps?”

The boy’s eyebrows furrow, creating a little _v._ “You think she’s hot?” _Hell,_ did he say nothing right? Apparently not, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all.

“Would you be put out if I said no?” _Relief–_ towards what the Alpha wonders, bemused. _The Beta?_ Harry almost snorts. Around Louis, that woman didn’t even _exist,_ hell _nobody_ did.

“You’ve to answer my question now.”

“I already did,” he works to maintain a serious tone, but a bewildered expression flits across the shorter-lad’s face and he chokes on his laughter.

“ _Oi!_ Come off it, Harry!” The sound of his name on the Omega’s lips does strange things– _risky_ things, to his body–his heartbeats quickens with the abrupt electricity humming through him.

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, tugging (with perhaps a bit too much strength. He’ll have to learn to channel that one of these days) Louis by his wrist so that he stumbles into his seat with a winded _oof._

From there, he takes the other seat. “I’m…enamored by you. You’re rather intriguing. It drives me…I want to find out all there is to know…About you.” By the end, his voice is low, intimate in ways he’s never heard it.

Louis snorts sullenly, blank gaze to the floor. “There’s not much to find out,” he whispers. _Highly unlikely._ “I’m rather common–well, I try to be.”

“Why would you do _that?”_ he asks, voice (probably) a bit too curious. “Normal is dreary.” And it’s true.

 _Skepticism._ Louis’ gaze meets his once more. “No. No, it’s not. You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re a weirdo,” he mumbles, bottom lip jutting attractively in a pout. Harry imagines swooping forward to nip at that bottom lip, imagines the taste and feel…Then he reminds himself that this is _Louis –_ who’d most likely be petrified if he even dared.

“Hey! ‘m not!” The other arches an artful brow. “Alright, fine, maybe a bit,” he mutters. “But that’s beside the point. Why would you wanna be just like everybody else?”

“Because, then I could do what everyone else does.”

Harry frowns, baffled by that. “And what does everyone do that you can’t?”

“Lots of things…” the boy shrugs.

Jaw set, the Alpha leans forward, closer than he’s ever dared, stopping the flow of his breath to grasp the smaller boys jaw firmly. “You can do _anything_ you want, Lou. Never doubt that.”

A smile hints around the corners of his thin lips. “You’re very different from what I’ve heard.” As he speaks, his warm breath brushes Harry’s face, taunting him. Immediately, his own eyes falls shut, soaking up the warmth, mesmerised by the proximity.

“Meaning?”

Shocking him, chilled fingertips run over his jaw. “Meaning you’re not…You’re not a complete twat. Actually, you’re very…”

 _More_ his body screams, but he doesn’t trust himself (not right now). “Charming, handsome, _very_ irresistible,” he teases, putting distance between them. Away from the temptation, he inhales some much needed air.

Louis stifles a giggle, blue eyes sparkling in a way that has Harry’s heart stalling. “You’re insufferable!”

“But I’m not a twat,” he reminds, pleased.

The boy smiles brilliantly and it lights his whole face. “Not _completely,”_ he allows. “But, maybe just a little.”

Just like that, with those simple words, Harry realises he can no longer pretend he’s only _in danger_ of loving this boy. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhh, so there it is! :) UGH. 'm so nervous. [don't look at me] 
> 
> [giggles]
> 
> Thoughts anyone?


	4. Part Four;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is waayyyy overdue. so sorry it took me this long...Life's been hectic!
> 
> but I'm very happy with this chapter~ finally, more Louis!

This is what it means to feel alive, Louis thinks, self-consciously tugging at the sleeves of his jumper. The whirlwind of energy blazes within Harry Styles, an energy Louis finds himself bizarrely attuned to, more so that with anyone else. It’s a thrill that clings to him all at once, settling deep in his bones and contaminating his senses so that it becomes difficult to separate his feelings, to even recognise what those feels are; it’s unnerving, but oh-so exhilarating.

“You’re uncomfortable,” that rough, _sticky_ voice states abruptly. “Why?”

Startled from his reverie, Louis blinks. “How do you guess so easily?”

The faint sound of shuffling reaches him–a chilling echo of the unknown. With it comes the unease, which begins to eat away the excitement until all that’s left is a panging reminder that, in his sixteen years, there hasn’t been one time he’s handled…well, _anything_ (not personally at least).  His entire life, he’s been sheltered by a (disturbingly) high mantelpiece. Even Niall and Liam, his _best_ mates were…chance, a close friendship between Mothers who happened to have children around the same age group.

But with Harry Styles…it’s glaringly impossible to tell what goes where, to be confident in his reactions. Right now, with only feet separating them, that’s reason enough to be thoroughly shaken.

Defensively, he curls in on himself, hugging his legs tighter to his chest and hiding his face in his knees. More important, he’s effectively shielded himself from the other’s suffocating scrutiny.

 _Silence._ As the seconds tick by, silence masks the space between them. And lost to that hideous silence, desperate wishes–the generally avoidable, pointless sort–, spring forward, tainting his every thought. Louis wishes…wishes he wasn’t so… _disabled,_ that he could see just a little while. See beyond the daunting darkness because alone with the silence, in the dingiest of places, waiting is–and _always_ has been–unbearable.

Sound keeps him level. Sound is all he will ever allow himself to depend on.

 _C’mon Lou,_ he thinks, swallowing a fresh wave of panic. _You can do this…Just say something._

Plucking up some courage, his mouth opens to say something (probably regrettable…) but unexpectedly Harry clears his throat. “You’re an easy read, I suppose.” His voice is cool, impassive in the worst of ways –except now it’s (impossibly) deeper, the same gravelly timbre…but _more._ Without warning, something hot and needy and _more_ pools in his belly. _Wait –what?_

Louis winces, puzzled by his reactions…by the shudder running up his spine. Some obscured part of him– _the Omega part–_ stretches, stirring for the first time since…Inwardly, he cringes away from those thoughts, instead makes it his focus to find his voice. When he does, it’s horribly reedy, more so than usual.  “Am I?”

“No,” the Alpha admits, sounding guilty enough that Louis shakes his head, slightly amused. “But,” he continues, “It was worth a shot.”

“I don’t understand…?” he trails, beyond confused–all else withstanding.

Another shuffle –which Louis decides must be shrugging. “Eh, I don’t understand myself most of the time either, so.” That makes…the both of them. At the thought, he realises that they actually have something in common.

For some bizarre reason (everything seems to be bizarre where Harry’s concerned) that pleases him…He grins. Then, without thinking, he blurts, “Harry, you are very odd.” _Oh no._ As soon as the words exit his mouth, he regrets them, fiercely scoring the skin of his palms with his nails in silent punishment.

Insults are never taken lightly by Alphas. He’s been warned as much since before he could even recognise the distinction between the three fractions. All too late, he recalls the words of his private tutor. _The Alphas needs always come first. Our Alphas are the dominant order, the_ strength _of the race. Alphas are, at all times,_ volatile.

And though it wasn’t meant as an insult (not at all) Louis isn’t so dense that he doesn’t realise how it could’ve easily been mistaken as one.

 _Yep, an idiot, what I am,_ he chastises himself, resentful. His nails begin to bite painfully, though he hardly notices with the dread coiled along his ribcage (which retaliates cruelly), constricting around his lungs so that it’s that much more difficult to breathe. Complaint, his muscles catch, holding him immobile (though he would much rather _run –_ to another universe, if possible).

Except the Alpha doesn’t lash out…the Alpha starts to laugh. Actually, it’s more a cackle, loud and deep and so… _infectious._ Relieved, a hesitant laugh (well it’s more a giggle, but he _refuses_ to say so) bubbles on his lips.

“And don’t I know it.” There isn’t even a hint of irritation in his voice… _but –_

“Are… _Aren’t_ you put out?” he questions, disbelief colouring his tone.

“Why would I be?” the other quips.

“Because…I-I…basically insulted you...”

“Did you?”

At a loss, Louis blinks, then frowns. “N-Not intentionally…Well –I mean…”

“It wasn’t _meant_ as an insult,” Harry finishes, a grin–no doubt a gorgeous, award-winning sort of grin—in his voice.  

Just like before, his wit is nowhere to be found in the presence of Harry Styles with his distracting voice and ruthless charm and –Grudgingly, he asks, “How, pray tell, is any of this the slightest bit funny?”

“How _isn’t_ it funny?” At that, the Omega’s eyebrows furrow, mouth open to retort…but _again,_ he comes up short. Floundering, he shuts his mouth and waits. There’s a short, haughty beat (Harry may be _odd,_ but he’s still an Alpha…an irritatingly _smug_ Alpha) of silence before Harry murmurs in that self-satisfied ( _my-point-has-been-made)_ tone, “And that, little one, is how you properly deflect.”

 _Most definitely Alpha,_ he confirms, although before the knowledge gets to him, Harry’s words register. _Little one?_!

“’M not little…” Louis protests in a small voice, (fruitlessly) trying not to blush.

All at once, the atmosphere around him charges and sparks– _the mesmerising kind–_ flicker to life within him. Powerless to stop it (though, he isn’t entirely sure he would’ve anyway), his lips part in quick, sharp breaths and his eyes go wide as saucers. He can feel him… _there,_ humming through his veins –all potent energy, spiraling and fluttering and performing summersaults in his belly.

Startling him further, the Alpha stalks closer, footfalls muted thuds on the carpet–with each tentative step, the Omega’s heart leaps. And whilst Harry wrecks through his insides, the bloke closes in on him until all he knows is _HarryHarryHarry,_ until he is so close his body heat–blazing like a furnace–cloaks him. The energy between them absolutely soars.

Cologne and leather and something addictive invades Louis’s senses. Spellbound, he inhales deeper, the scent or perhaps the energy (he can’t tell) has his head spinning…round and round.

 _So much.  
_ _Too much…  
_ _More…_ a small, almost silent, voice whispers wantonly. Answering that voice, two long, practised fingers brush a strand of his hair from where it hangs at his temple then continues to leave a searing trail over his cheekbone until they reach the corner of his mouth. Unconsciously, Louis leans into the touch, a little sound begins low in his throat and with a shock, he realises he’s… _purring._

“Oh, you are,” the Alpha’s voice is raw, hoarse and fascinating all at once. “All Omegas tend to be.” As the taller speaks, his lips ( _ever-so-lightly)_ graze the sensitive spot–one he never knew was there–beneath his ear, breathing hot on Louis’s skin.

“No,” he argues, breathless with excitement. Frustrated by the interruption, the (dormant –only minutes ago) Omega in him begins to whine, all but begging to be taken. Desperate for a distraction, Louis quickly persists, “I have an uncle…N-Not small…at all….A professional boxer, actually.”

As anticipated (to his Omega’s complete dismay) the Alpha jerks away. “You lie.”

“You think I’d lie? About that?!” Louis exclaims in a (theatrically) scandalised voice, fighting a grin.

“Actually, yes, I would reckon so.”

“You’d reckon?” he challenges, quirking an eyebrow at the other. “Guess you’ll never really know, yeah?”  

In response, Harry growls, but this time there’s playful edge to the sound that has him grinning in delight. It’s… _fun –_ nothing like his rows with Liam or pointless bickering with Niall or teasing the girls…Banter with Harry Styles makes his heart race. Banter with Harry Styles is thrilling. All because he can _prod_ and _push_ in ways that are nothing enjoyable with Niall (the Irish lad is naturally cheerful and unfazed) and _definitely not_ with Liam for more than one reason.

“Not so fast, little one.” the blush returns with the pet-name. “I _intend_ to get down to the bottom of –,” a dull buzz cuts him off. His phone _,_ Louis figures.

“Damn it,” Harry mutters, footsteps starting in the direction of the door. Then, with a soft “ _stay_ ”, he exits the room.

Alone, Louis realises the energy has disappeared, replaced with a cold, hollow sensation in his chest. In effort to quell the sensation, his thoughts wander back to Harry.

 _How old is he?_  
 _What does he look like?  
_ The most pressing: _how does Harry see_ me?

Cutting his thoughts, Harry returns. “I have to go,” he says in an irritated voice. “Come. Let’s get you home.”

Strangely enough, Louis doesn’t _want_ to go home…and he desperately hopes the disappointment isn’t visible on his face. As he stands, one hand slides over the platform in search of his bag (he has a tendency of misplacing things…which is rather embarrassing at times, like _now)._

Stilling him, a much larger hand covers his, long fingers curling firmly over his trembling ones. At the contact, the hollow sensation drifts and warmth spreads through his body. “I have your bag, Lou...” There’s a brief pause. “This okay?” Emphasizing the question, Harry squeezes his fingers lightly.

Louis tenses. “I don’t need supervision, I can walk just fine.”

“I know…But I want to hold your hand.” The sincere words shoot a second dose of warmth through him. Wordlessly, he nods, allowing the Alpha to weave their fingers and lead him.

Down the foyer, at the stairs, Harry mutters, “This place needs to invest in some lifts.” And the Omega knows that he isn’t talking about his vision.

“That’s for nans and the handicap, Harry,” he states quietly –as not to disturb the library’s hush.

“Hence the more need for one.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but doesn’t comment further because Harry begins to guide him (perhaps a bit too slowly) down the twenty-four (having already memorized that) steps.

Outside, the Alpha asks, “Do you still wanna walk?”

Louis chews at his lip, hesitant. “If that’s okay with you…”

When Harry shifts, Louis can tell it’s a shrug and decides to supply his address (which is only ten or so minutes from the school). In a comfortable silence, they walk, hands swinging between them. And suddenly, Louis realises they must look mated–the thought sends the butterflies in his belly fluttering again.

A blush lights his entire face…but he doesn’t let go.

Ten or so minutes later, they stop at Louis’ drive and once again, the disappointment engulfs him. He doesn’t want to let go, childish as it is. Suddenly, Harry says, “Give me your mobile.”

Curious, the Omega fishes it from his pocket (a bit awkwardly since Harry doesn’t let his hand go) then hands it over.

It’s only minutes later that Harry caves. “How the hell do you work this thing?”

Louis grins fondly (Niall’s reaction was much the same a year ago). “It functions on Braille. Gimme, I’ll put your number in it.”

Harry recites the digits and Louis saves it under _Alphaboy._

Goodbye lingers between them, but minutes pass and Harry still doesn’t release his hand. Louis breaks the silence. “I’d ask you to come in…” _but my Mum might freak, but you obviously have places to be, but…I don’t want you to go and that frightens me._

“That’s for another time, love.” Louis melts–flush, sputtering and all. “I’ll call you, yeah?”

Its then the Alpha finally _does_ release his hand–which falls limply to his side. Not trusting his voice, Louis just nods, fumbling with the locks at his door.

 “Bye, Harry…” His only reply: fading footsteps. Inside, he shuts the door softly behind him. With nobody around, it’s safe for him to lean against the door, a dazed smile playing on his lips.

Time passes, but he can’t bring himself to move (or care). Though it’s silent his mind whirls at full volume. Startling him, his phone begins to inform him of an incoming call…and somehow Louis knows (without the phone) who it is.

And as soon as he answers, a deep voice murmurs, “Told you I’d call.”  Faintly, he can make out the purr of an engine.

“Harry please, tell me you’re not driving whilst on the phone!” the concern practically oozes from him.

“Of course not,” the other denies too quickly. “I’m a responsible young adult.”

“ _Right._ Harry, I’m going to hang up now. Call me when you _aren’t_ driving with the substantially high risk of an accident.”

He can practically hear the other rolling his eyes. “I will.”

Yet nobody hangs up. “Hang up, little one.”

“Okay, Haz,” he whispers before obeying. Suddenly, the events from the previous hour come over him in a dizzying, lovely collision.

“LOUIS!!” the banshee-like shrills of his girls bring him back to the present.

But the rest of the night that lovely warmth stays in his hand and Harry Styles stays on his mind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts anyone? c;


	5. Part Five;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Oh my gosh! I've finally updated without a two week stretch! 
> 
> c: I want to thank you guys for all the lovely comments! This isn't my favourite chapter...BUT this is going to be a slow building story & I need to give Harry & Louis time...
> 
> Well... I hope you guys still like it (chews lip nervously)

_Lights._ Blinding lights flash in the otherwise dark ballroom, the colours swirling only to disappear and burst once more. Each time it happens (which is, by estimate, every twenty seconds or so) Harry’s temples throb something sinful. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he takes another uninterested swing at his drink.

There’s a reason, he thinks each word slowly, in attempt to grasp the importance there. But _fuck,_ there has to be some purpose to his presence in this extravagant (there hasn’t been a time he’s seen so much _pink_ all at once) ballroom surrounded by nameless faces, some who ignore him (the best they can, though by the curious glances to his right, not very good at all) or the bulk who smile in that (unattractive) flirtatious way.

According to Nick’s standards, when you’re (disgustingly) rich with idiots throwing themselves at you left and right…you should at least have the grace to _act_ like you care. Harry _really_ doesn’t give two fucks. Or perhaps the three Coke’s and Whiskey’s are talking to him in deep, personal ways…Still, the idea of getting pissed drunk and finding his Omega…His gorgeous, smart-mouthed Omega who will (without even _realising_ it) make him forget whatever is sloshing around in his head.

 _Buzzing._ His skin feels like it’s literally buzzing…but that can’t be right. _Louis,_ the Alpha urges–and to Harry, the very name sounds like the best thing that’s happened to him since… _ever,_ actually.

Around him everyone is jumping, the entire room swaying to the beat of the music. His eyes search the spacious area until he catches sight of Nick–another Alpha, one of the only mates (besides Zayn) he _chooses_ to associate with. The older is piled on a smaller bloke, both laughing hysterically at something off to his side. Following their gazes, Harry focuses on what’s so funny. It’s another bloke, completely trashed on the DJ booth, humping the air… _passionately,_ to put it loosely.

At the sight Harry quickly downs the last of his drink, even considers grabbing another, but suddenly the song reaches its climax. The sound explodes all over, severing the haze clouding his senses enough that he becomes aware of how _hot_ and suffocating the place is.

He can’t handle much more. He’s teetering on that dangerous edge again–the (usually veiled) bitterness churning in his stomach. Mechanically, his limbs carry him through the throng of sweaty bodies, disgusted by the overwhelming stench of what he can only describe as _‘party’:_ a toxic mixture of liquor, perfumes, sweat, sex and a bit of throw up.

In the stairwell the music is muted and his thoughts begin to sharpen. Three steps down, he sways and wonders how the host (whoever they may be) expects anyone _sober_ to even make it down this bloody death-trap. It’s _that_ fucking steep.

 _Whatever._ He doesn’t pause. Midway, a leggy female with brunette (or perhaps it’s blonde? He doesn’t bother looking into it) waves starts at the (now visible) landing. The manners–too ingrained to ignore–hold him in place. Much like him, she’s trying very hard not to topple over, though she seems to realise he’s there and looks up from her high  ( _Christ, how is she still standing in those?)_ heels.

The sight hits him like a wrecking ball, a battering ram to his ribs which abruptly feel too tight around his lungs. _Caroline…That’s–She’s why I’m here._ With only feet separating them, the heavy scent of perfume begins to shred through his insides. He struggles to breathe, a cold sweat breaking over his skin which prickles in that stretched-to-fit way, so fucking itchy he’s tempted to scrub it away with his bare nails.

The older Omega smiles widely, trying to bat her eyelashes but failing miserably. “ _Stylesez!_ You made it!” The words are gurgled… _Unappealing._

A manicured hand reaches out to grip the lapels of his blazer so that she presses closer. Panic (an emotion Harry’s only ever felt once…When his Mother… _Oh, fuck no)_ trickles through him in thick bouts.

She’s touching him. She is _touching him–_ unconsciously rooting on the growing revulsion–revulsion that isn’t directed at Caroline or even his shitty Father. No, it’s directed at _him–_ the shitty disappointment of the family.

He _can’t_ do it. Not now (not _ever,_ the Alpha corrects), not when the poor woman is so plastered she won’t even remember much of anything tomorrow.  Not when–

 _Enough,_ the Alpha snarls, demanding control. And for once, Harry doesn’t fight the defensive, detached calm settling over him. In seconds, the control takes action, analysing the situation. Caroline (oblivious to his lack of enthusiasm) stares at him with that same inviting smile…but it isn’t _right._ The smile doesn’t light up her face, the blues of her eyes aren’t the right shade…and her fragrance doesn’t send chills up his spine. _She_ isn’t right.

Flowers–the word springs and ricochets about in his head. Louis smells like flowers. Louis smells like _his._ With one word the phantom-scent wafts through his entire body. His heartbeat comes quicker, that silenced part of him ruptures the thin-layer of restraint and blares in protest to the female Omega before him.

 _Only Louis,_ that part shrieks, and the mere idea of being with anyone else sends ice-cold panic through his veins. His every lone molecule will accept nothing _but_ his little Omega.

Nothing changes –not one fuckin bit. There is no alternative. The show must go on, his _use and abuse_ role must be carried out.

With a practised smirk, Harry pries her hand away from his blazer, but keeps ahold, running his thumb over her knuckles. _And so it begins._ Tuning into the Alpha all thoughts, feeling, _everything_ but his purpose fades, leaving him empty.

“Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” His voice is forcibly smooth.

She laughs. “So what did you get me then? Anything sweet?”

The pretense threatens to fade. “You just might find out. But first, I’ll need your number.” There’s no helping the impatience in his tone. With every passing second another of his defense crumbles. The emotional-filter is falling apart.

The Omega frowns. “I…I can’t remember my number at the mo’.” _Thank fuck._ “But I’m sure you’ll find _ahway_ to contact me anyway. Won’t you?”

 _Not if I can help it._ “’Course,” he replies, grasping the opportunity of escape. “Until then, sweetheart.” Then, before Caroline (wasted as she is) can even process his words, Harry takes advantage of his height and swiftly descends the last few steps.

In the lot, the Alpha basks in the (much needed) fresh air, though the cool breeze does nothing to diminish the red-hot shame. Instead the burn spreads over his every muscle–making it extremely difficult to walk straight to his car (easily distinguished in all white). Fucking with him some more, his hands begin to shake uncontrollably.

After three attempts, the doors unlock with a faraway _click,_ though the victory is scarcely noticed as he tumbles into the driver’s side. All at once every shitty episode returns, the most prominent: the cold, calculated demands–the demand to _seduce…_ Caroline Flack.

A frustrated shout lodges deep in his throat. _User._ The word fixes over the heavyweight in his chest, dirty and cheap.

 _Louis–_ all Harry wants is the blue-eyed Omega…but no, it must be late, too late for him to be awake even on a Friday. He _shouldn’t_ have to tolerate his bullshit–can’t be tainted with it.

Hands still shaking, Harry phones the only person he trusts during these times. _Twice–_ it rings two long rings before a gravelly, sleep-ridden voice answers, _“Haz?”_

“My head hurts…” his voice sounds flat despite the molten emotions roiling within.

“Harry?” _No shit._ “Where’re you at, mate?” _Alone…always alone._

“My head hurts,” he repeats in that same, eerie tone.

“You’ve said –,”

“MY HEAD FUCKING HURTS!” the shout, laced with rage, pierces the otherwise still space. His entire body vibrates with it and his canines grind against just as hostile growls.

Zayn’s only response: s _ilence–_ and _fuck_ does it bite back.

Desperate for some sort of solidity, the Alpha murmurs, “My head hurts…and I feel like shit.”

“I’m not the one you should be calling then.”

“The fuck you aren’t,” he snaps…but the words lack venom. They’re just empty.

“Oh cut the fucking bullshit,” Zayn snaps –and strangely enough the anger makes an immediate exit, oust by fatigue. Seemingly aware of his sudden silence, the other continues, “You know I’m not the one you should be calling, Harry.”

Forehead resting on the steering-wheel, Harry exhales shakily. “I know…” And he does, that’s the _problem_.

“Then do something about it.” The line goes dead, leaving a sardonic _beep, beep, beep_ in its wake.

The cold, concave numb envelopes the buzz over his skin though on reflex, Harry straightens, buckles, starts the car…and sits there. Seconds, minutes, hell maybe hours tick by before the world finally comes into focus.

By memory, he makes it back to the manor, pulling up the drive and slowly stepping out of the car. Tonight the great doors do not open for him. Instead, he grapples with the locks ( _there are so bloody many)_ until each of them unbolt.

In need of the solitude, Harry doesn’t linger at the entrance; he trudges up the long staircase and into his room. Since this morning, the entire room has been…sterilised–the white flooring is no longer littered with clothes, the throw has been smoothed out, the pillows fluffed, his laptop sited carefully on the desk–everything has been repressed and left without personality–encased by the darkness.

Even prisoner to a world of total obscurity, Harry marvels, his Omega shines brighter than supernovas. _Mine._

Stripping down to his pants, the Alpha falls into the large bed, a death-grip on his mobile. Without his realising (or permission) the phone dials, though this time Harry knows it isn’t Zayn he’s calling. The sparks of amplifying energy is a dead giveaway.

Staring into the darkness, Harry embraces the slow heat (unlike the bloodredanger _)_ simmering in his chest.

 _“Harry?”_ that lovely, high-pitched voice floods the room–the heat spikes through his veins now.

“Tell me something,” his voice is muted, brain-to-mouth filter shattered.

“Harry…It’s nearly four in the morning…” With anyone else it might’ve been a grumble, but not with Louis. With Louis it’s a gentle affirmation…So achingly _gentle._

“Is it?” the doubt colouring his tone is genuine…He hadn’t thought it was _quite_ so late–certainly doesn’t feel it.

There’s a little shuffle on the other line before, “You okay, Haz?”

 _Haz…_ The Alpha inwardly growls in satisfaction. He likes– _loves_ the common pet name on Louis’ lips.

“Haz…I quite fancy when you say it,” he drawls brazenly. Screw the whole _‘self-disciple’_ bit, Louis ought to know the absolute power he holds over him.

There’s a small, heart-wrenchingly sweet snicker. “Are you _drunk,_ Harry?”

 _Not nearly enough, apparently._ “Nope,” he says, the _p_ stressed. “Tell me something, Lou.”

“What would you have me tell you?”

“Anything,” he blurts, then quickly rights himself, “About you. Anything about you.”

There’s a brief pause, then the Omega murmurs, “You ought to have a horrid headache tomorrow.”

“ _Louis,”_ he bleats with a minute-frown on his lips.

“Okay, okay,” the boy caves, amusement in his tone. “Well… _Oh!_ A bedtime story! One I heard when I was a boy.” _You still are._

“Tell me,” Harry breathes, craving the boy’s voice like nothing before.

“Another world,” there’s a young-boys wonder in his voice. “A _bizarre_ world, where everyone is equal and there are no fractions or Council.”

“Seems…lovely.”

“Not entirely,” the Omega disagrees, the wonder vanishing. “A world where same-sex love is frowned upon…A world where, in order to mate, there are rituals with strange callings like _‘marred’_ I think it was. Something with an _M._ A world without strength or balance or…”

The hushed words become distant and unrecognisable, but the lovely tenor sooths the tempest of emotion. Sleep already closes Harry’s eyes when he hears that soft voice calling his name in the smoggy distance. “ _Haz…?”_

“Yeah?” he grits back into reality, waiting to hear what his Omega wishes to say.

“Are you falling asleep?”

“Sleep with me,” he mumbles, eyes drifting shut once more.

The last thing Harry hears is a faint whisper, _“G’night Alphaboy…”_   

∞∞∞

 _Monsters!_ With a startled cry Harry slams into consciousness, eyes snapping open to find– _darkness._

Terror, sharp and cutting, flickers to life and his heart flutters in the worst of ways _._ Except this _isn’t_ _his_ terror and this _isn’t_ _his_ mind.

 _“M-mummy!”_ in the darkness a little boy, with a reedy voice, shrieks. Hot, fat tears are sticky on Harry’s–the boy’s–face. Hard sobs rock his small body. He can’t see–the darkness is acidic–eating away at his clarity.

“Louis!” a woman sighs, taking the little one into her arms. Mummy, Harry–the boys thinks, frantically burrowing his face in the woman’s neck.

 “I c-can’t s-s-see!” he wails, unable to grasp reality.

“You’re fine, love. My sweet babe…” Mummy sounds _strange_. Harry–unlike the boy–knows the woman is silently weeping.

“ _Mummy…?”_ this time it’s a whispers…The boy’s throat feels sore. “W-Why can’t I-I see like t-the other l-lads?”

“I wish I knew, BooBear…” Unlike the boy, Harry ( _just barely_ ) catches the woman’s–Mummy’s–tormented whisper because they’re (he and the boy–in one little body) are being tugged so close it’s hard to breathe…But Mummy smells nice so the boy is content and feels better with it.

 “ _How I wish I knew...”_

∞∞∞

_Bzzzz._

Harry shouts awake, gasping and unable to see straight. Something moves beneath him, but it takes a full five seconds before he can manage to force his weight-like arms up to support him. His iPhone flashes blindingly from where it’s tangled in the thick duvets.

With a griped groan, he snatches the damned thing up and swipes the screen. There’s a text from…his Omega.

 _Oh fuck –_ that dream, memory, whatever the hell it was…His heart throbs in time with his temples. 

_‘Hi... Um I hope ur headache isn’t 2 bad…Glad to know ur a very…demanding drunk. -L’_

_Double fuck._ In a rush, Harry sits up, swaying as the world spins in ways he hadn’t thought possible. Clutching his head, he groans, searching his mind for some collection of what the fuck he could have possibly said.

Nothing comes back.

Swallowing, he types back, _‘should I be srry for anything?’_

The response is almost instant. It’s puzzling and intriguing and just… _Louis._ ‘ _Everything…HAZ :D’_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! :) So, I would really, really love to know your guys' thoughts & opinions! 
> 
> (btw, the song that was playing at the party: Pretty Wicked Things -Dawn Richard)
> 
> Thoughts anyone? c:


	6. Part Six;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes! :) 
> 
> Thank you guys again, for all the lovely feedback and just all the support! It means a lot! .xx

With a start, Harry jolts awake, his breathing heavy with panic (a feeling that isn’t _his)_ and his skin sleek with sweat in the sheets. Rolling onto his back, he stares up at the high-ceiling, momentarily blinded by the sunlight peeking through the thick curtains (ironic that the sun would shine today, of all days). Not even seconds later, his sharp eyes adjust and the panic makes an abrupt departure. Slowly, but surely, his body begins to calm.

Saturday, he realises the date grudgingly. Saturday’s are never open for him, he is _always_ expected to visit his Father’s Base Enterprise in London which also means it’s–avoiding his Father–isn’t a possibility.

“Waste of fucking time,” he snarls, balling his fists in the duvet as the buzz (seemingly aware of the impending distance) returns, curling and squeezing at his lungs. The muted pain, now accustomed to, no longer has an effect on his mental state, the Alpha within is tightly leashed (absolutely no pun intended), devoid of any control.

Satisfied by that, Harry rises, striding into the connecting bath. It’s large–too large for one teenager–, with a Jacuzzi sidelong a stand up glass-shower that reflects off the large mirror above the long, marble counterpane, organised with an unnecessary amount of hair products that Harry rarely even touches.

With a disgusted look, he starts up to shower and attempts to scour the invisible buzz away. Except it doesn’t work ( _not that he’d really thought it would, but_ still). Despite the failure, there is no irritation building in his chest and unexpectedly the realisation comes over him. He doesn’t _want_ it gone…

He needs it too keep him from going mad with concern, because without the connection, there would be no way to know (possessive as he is) where the boy is or that is he okay and those are _must-knows._

In thirty minutes the Alpha is dressed and exiting the manor, keys dangling carelessly in one hand. In the car, Harry pulls on his aviators (one’s he can’t recall ever _wearing)_ ; effectively blocking the beaming rays of sunlight enough that he can speed away from the manor.

It takes only two hours–thanks to his speeding–to enter London, where he parks on the curb, several blocks from the Base-Enterprise. Outside, leaning on the car, Harry pulls out his mobile and dials the number already memorised (pathetic as it is).

There’s a little, “Hi,” in answer. The voice sends an exhilarating jolt through him and the buzz loosens a bit.

“Hi.”

“It’s rather nice out this morning,” the boy hums and Harry rolls his eyes.

“Don’t start with this meaningless weather talk, Lou. It’s no fun.”

Over the line, there’s a small, pretty giggle. “What should I say then, _masta.?”_

His breathing catches. “Depends,” he murmurs a second too late, pondering what he can and _can’t_ have the boy say. “Is there a limit to what can and cannot be said?” His index fingers runs over his lip, warding off a grin.

“That doesn’t sound particularly comforting,” before Harry can press, the boy adds, “But I suppose there _isn’t_ a limit.”

“Well then, repeat after me. I will answer all your questions.”

The boy sighs dramatically but does as he’s told. “I will answer all your questions.”

“Without any objection.”

Dutifully, he recites, “Without any objection.”

“And Harry Styles is my prince charming.”

“And Harry Styles is my – _Oi!”_

Harry laughs, starting down the block. “It’s only true, love.”

The other _humph’s_ and Harry wonders if his bottom lip is in that lovely pout. “Well, I plead the fifth on that one!” Yep, there is a definite pout in his voice and the Alpha only wishes he could see it.

“You’re still bound by your word. You have to answer whatever I ask. So tell me, little one, what are you wearing?”

 _“Harry!”_ the boy doesn’t disappoint, he sounds absolutely scadalised. His smile widens–so much, it should hurt. Louis doesn’t give him a chance to speak, muttering, “To be completely honest, I’m wearing these fuzzy animal slippers my Mum got me as a joke my last birthday.” There’s a tinge of embarrassment in his tone.

“I was only joking, love,” Harry murmurs lightly. “Though animal slippers, hmm?”

Louis moans, the sound sends white-hot desire through his bloodstream. He wants to hear that sound again, a breath leaving the boy’s parted lips as he sends pleasure wrecking through his small, curvy body and –ending that train of thoughts the boy squeaks, “They’re comfy, is all!”

Harry laughs, causing a few curious glances from those passing by. “I didn’t say they weren’t.”

Louis scoffs. “And what are _you_ wearing, Mr. _Styles?”_

“Aviators,” he supplies, smug. “It’s rather bright out today.”

There’s a pause. Then, “I hope, for your sake, that you aren’t in Public with just some shades on.”

“Well,” he murmurs, rounding the corner of the last block. “I’m known to be quite exhibitionist.”

As he halts at the entrance of his Father’s tall, large skyscraper the boy mumbles, “That’s worrying.” _No, what’s worrying is how much you make me feel, how much I want you, how perfect you are for me..._

Harry glares at the floor, but forces himself to murmur (as lightly as he can), “Much as I’d love to discuss the worrying aspects of my nudity, I’ve got to get to business. Try to text me, yeah?”

The boy sighs and the Alpha hopes (more desperately than he would consider normal) that he isn’t imagining the sadness there. “Yeah…I will.”

Much like their first phone call, nobody hangs up. Torn, Harry closes his eyes, inhaling a deep, calming breath. “Hang up, Lou.”

“Okay…Haz.” For the first time ever…the Alpha wishes Louis didn’t _obey._ But he does and it leaves a cold, vacant hole in Harry’s chest.

Unwilling to look into that (new) sensation, Harry enters the building, where the security guards stare impassively and the assistants rise to greet him, their smiles to perfected. Not a one of them dares to comment or question his whereabouts as he pushes the door to the back-stairwell open, though he is sure the assistant must be informing his Father of his arrival. Twenty flights up and Harry is in the waiting area, striding over to the doors of his Father’s office without a glance to his assistant.

Today, he doesn’t bother to knock on the hardwood door, simply shoves it open. His Father is there, of course, except this time, the male is not alone. Caroline Flack and an older looking Beta stand side-by-side, his Father directly in front of them, a cool smile on his aging features.

At his arrival, the trio’s stares land on him, his Father smiling that (disgustingly) pleased smile. “Ah! There’s my boy. Harry, please, meet Ian Flack from XTRA FACTORS PRESENTORS. Mr. Flack, my son, Harry Styles.”

Harry doesn’t move, but smiles blandly at Flack.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’ve heard a very much of you,” Flacks tone suggests not all he’s heard is good. Harry doesn’t respond, just stares impassively, unimpressed.

“Harry, why don’t you take Caroline on a tour of the premises whilst Mr. Flack and I discuss the more tedious matters,” his Father – _damn him–_ suggests, giving him no choice.

Reluctantly, Harry meets Caroline’s eyes, which gleam hungrily as they look him up and down. He plasters a cool smile on his lips, despising the similarities between him and his Father in that moment and gestures her to follow. “Ms. Flack, allow me.” It sounds as if he actually fucking knows his way about–when in reality it’s the exact opposite (Harry usually sticks to his own wing in the building, with good reason too).

“Now, not so fast, you two! Take these,” the older Alpha motions to (a bloody trillion) security cards, purposefully sited on a side-table.

Irritated by the other’s tactics, Harry snatches them up and storms from the room, completely forgetting Caroline until she wiggles her hand through his arm, manicured grip firm. “So…Where too, _Mr. Styles,_ ” her voice is a purr.

His stomach churns, the buzz stabbing a gorge in his chest in retaliation to the female Omega’s proximity. Inwardly, he winces, but takes her down the corridor until he finds a door identical to his Father’s, where he scans multiple cards until finally ( _after several unsuccessful attempts)_ the door unlocks. Dutifully, he holds it open for her and she goes through with a smile on her lips, hips swaying noticeably, causing her skirt to rise an inch, revealing more skin.

 _Hell no._ Swallowing passed the lump in his throat, he carries himself forward. The room is another office with wall-to-floor windows, bookshelves, computers, the likes. Harry flattens his hands on a long table, tense as a stretch of awkward silence settles over the room.

From there, it happens quickly. Caroline, sliding closer (trying to be discrete but Harry’s every sense is on high-alert), trips (suspiciously) gracefully over her own feet, swaying forward so that her hands land on his chest, nails grazing his revealed swallow’s.

Instantly, his skin prickles and his Alpha snarls. “So,” she breathes. “What’ve you brought me here for Harry…?”

Through gritted teeth, he mutters, “There’s a variety of…er books to read…”

She leans forward some more–the buzz gauges another, gaping hole. “I was thinking you’d show me a bit of fun…” Suggestively, her hand slides down to the waistband of his trousers.

 _Fuck this,_ the Alpha growls.

“Er,” he fumbles (idiotically), quickly making his way over to the window, where he stares. “Lovely scenery, innit?”  

He risks a glance over to find that the female Omega is beginning to unbutton her blouse, murmuring softly, “Oh yes…”

 _Oh no,_ he shoots back, but pretends not to notice, centering on the small ant-like people on the ground. What he would give to be one of them right now.

“Come, Mr. Styles,” he instantly hates the way she says his surname, like it’s…something worthy of worship. It sounds so much better on his Omega’s lips. “Surely this is more pleasing…”

Mechanically, he turns to her and acid begins to gnaw at his control. The female is standing there with her blouse completely parted, revealing her lace bra and… _Fuck–This is so not happening._

“Caroline,” he tries. “There are camera’s and –,”

“I’m sure they will enjoy the show.”

He continues as if he hadn’t heard her. “This would put your reputation in danger –,”

She licks her lips. “I want you…Right here, right now. I’m practically begging for your –,”

Harry growls under his breath, and spouts, “Oh! I think–There’s someone at the door.” In seconds (so fast, he reckons it’s a world-record. Fastest-Alpha-To-Deny-An-Omega-And-Run-From-A-Shag. ), he crosses the room and flings the door open, hurrying down to corridor.

At the end, Nick is leaning against a door (no surprise, since Nick’s radio-station is joint with his Father’s company), a glass of some sort of expensive drink in his hand. The other Alpha spots him and grins. “Getting busy there, Styles?”

With an icy glare Harry snatches the drink before the older Alpha can even think to stop him, gulping it down then shoving the thing back into Nick’s limp hand.

As he rounds the corner, he hears Caroline’s mortified shriek, “COME BACK HERE, STYLES! WE AREN’T FINISHED!”

Rage threatens to consume him, but he doesn’t allow himself to turn around and do something that could cost him everything. The last thing he hears is Nick, “ _Real, real_ busy then.” _Idiot._

Harry locks himself in his own private quarters, where he busies himself checking over contracts (that he’s already gone through at least forty times before). There is nothing to find, but that doesn’t stop him. He needs to just _not_ think for a while.

Time passes much the same until the office door unbolts. He doesn’t bother to loop up, hoping his rude disregard will ward off whatever idiot dared to disturb him.

But, there are only two people who actually _would_ dare to enter without knocking and Harry knows neither are easily deterred.

When he doesn’t look up the one voice he’d hoped to never hear again speaks up. “Harry, our guests are leaving, would you be so kind as to bid them goodbye?” _Fuck no._

“Whatever,” he mutters, standing and following his Father’s already turned back, glaring holes into the other’s head.  Caroline doesn’t meet his gaze and it’s a relief, she had already pushed him too far. He could not handle her again…Ever.

A few words are exchanges and then the two enter the lift.

As soon as the doors slide shut, his father murmurs, “Well, I do hope you weren’t dense enough to actually sleep with that slut.”

Surprised, the younger nearly speaks, but the older continues, “Flack’s company is _shit_ and was a worthless pursue.”

And Harry could fucking kill the old bastard. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...C: this was made to be a more funny chapter! I hope I (sort of) succeeded! Next Chap...LOTS OF CUTESIE FLUFFY HARRY&LOUIS! (first date, heehee)
> 
> Thoughts anyone?


	7. Part Seven;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...here it is! The first dateee:) 
> 
> Again, thank you too all my readers and the lovely comments! You are all the best! Lots of love. 
> 
> .xx

Two weeks. Two weeks pass before Harry finally snaps. His resolve (along with the self-discipline shit he’d convinced himself he could live by) gets lost in chaotic thoughts …Though, in all honesty, there is only so much control he can exploit throughout the long, grueling days leading up to this one (mind the buzz and his Alpha screwing with his very existence months prior).

Today, a hush overwhelms the library room, Harry watching Louis as he flips through the thick pages of his thick book (which the Alpha still hasn’t gotten around to asking the title of), absorbed in whatever escapade lies there. 

Frustrated by the lack of attention, Harry slams the book (which he hasn’t even glanced at) in his lap shut, staring pointedly until, seconds later, the boy looks up, a small, patient smile playing on the corners of his lips.

“Was there something you needed, Harry?” his voice is too light and Harry catches–before the buzz even does–the tinge of hesitation beneath the careful tone.

“Yes, actually,” he mutters, shifting so that their knees touch, the Omega’s heat burning through the material of his khakis. But he refuses to be sidetracked by that (later, the phantom feeling will return, it always does). “Louis, can I ask you something?”

The little _v_ forms between his eyebrows. “Shoot.”

“Let me take you out tonight,” he blurts, watching the boy’s expression carefully–unsure of how to interpret the widening of his eyes or the perfect _o_ his mouth forms.

His voice wavers when he answers, “That wasn’t a question…”

“Lou,” Harry presses, trying to ignore the frantic panic crawling up his throat.

“Haz…” his tone is answer enough, though the other doesn’t spare him the pity. “I-I don’t think that’d be the best idea.”

Following the words, Harry’s ears begin to ring and his teeth grind. The panic (a _disturbing_ feeling that has only just appeared–much like the buzz) grows razor-sharp claws that run down his throat to his chest. Even more disturbing, how much pain that causes, persistent as the Alpha centers on Louis–listening (slightly comforted by it) to his fluttering heartbeats and quick breaths until finally, the feelings flow through the bond–discomfort and fear and… _longing?_

Shocked, Harry’s eyes flicker open and he stares at the boy who’s denying him. Movements cautious (as too not startle him), his fingers brush a silky lock of chestnut hair form those eyes, soaking up the searing warmth. Almost unconsciously, the boy’s eyes slide shut and he leans into the touch.

“Why? Why’re you denying me?” he questions, voice rough with emotion–the rejection is slashing through his insides.

Louis sighs. “I-I don’t want this mess this up. Harry…I’ve never…been _out._ Like I don’t _do_ fun and reckless like the others. I…I will just hold you back.”

The words are so, so sincere…so completely _Louis_ that fresh holes puncture his chest–because somehow, the Omega truly believes that _he_ is holding Harry _back._ Fuck. That.

“Hey…What did I tell you about that? Fuck, Lou, you can do _whatever_ the hell you please.”

“I know, I know,” Louis mutters grudgingly–though his body leans further into the Alpha’s touch. “Just…”

“Tell me,” he demands, inwardly wincing at the Alpha resonance, though the boy doesn’t seem to notice.

“People will stare! And I-I _hate_ that. I hate looking so…so… _useless._ And people will start to talk and–,”

“Fuck them!” Harry explodes. “I don’t care, Louis! I don’t give two damns about what anyone thinks but _you._ I just want…All I want is to show you what it means to live, Lou. And all I need is a chance,” towards the end, his voice softens so that it’s almost pleading.

As a last resort, the Alpha tips closer, their foreheads just barely come into contact as he breathes, “Please, Lou…Just once.”

With a sharp gasp, the Omega squeezes his eyes shut tighter before his smaller hand reaches up to cover the Alphas–grip abnormally tight. “Alright, Haz…Okay.”

Instantly, his heart guns at his ribs, the feeling bittersweet as his fingers stroke at the soft skin of Louis’ cheek. “Five,” he murmurs. “I’ll retrieve you at five...D’you have a ride home or shall I take you?”

Excitement whirls betweens them as Louis smiles timidly. “I’ve a ride. In fact, it should be here by now…” And as if summoned the tell-tale chime (his phone, Harry gathers) sounds, signaling that, for now, their time is up.

“Come, I’ll walk you down.”

“No!” Again, there’s an anxious edge to the other’s voice. “Harry, the person waiting for me…He doesn’t know about our…friendship. If he finds out, he’ll tell my Mum and right now, neither of us should have to deal with that.”

Harry bites back a growl at the _he –_ nobody but him should be caring for Louis. “He?” he asks tightly.

Louis rolls his eyes. “A Beta, Harry, paid to be my watchdog. Trust me; I’m completely safe with him.” Nevertheless, the words do nothing to reassure him but _fuck,_ there isn’t anything to do about that.

In defeat, he mutters, “Right. Wear something warm tonight.”

In response, Louis stands, taking the warmth with him. Harry glares at the floor, frustrated that he can’t even walk Louis out –God forbid he actually takes care of him. 

“Haz, I can practically feel you glaring.” With a sigh, the Omega bends with his hands fluttering out in front of him until they land on the side of Harry’s throat. “I’ll see you later, yeah? Only a few hours…” he sooths.

Lingering, his blunt fingernails rake over Harry’s skin lightly, compelling the Alpha to grip his wrist in two fingers and bring it to his nose, where he inhales the rich scent deeply into his lungs. Then, before he screws up, Harry releases him, shutting his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch his departing back.

There isn’t anything worse, he thinks, than watching (powerless) Louis walk away from him–well, besides Louis rejecting him or anything involving the Omega being harmed.

But, Harry decides, seeing him walk away definitely makes top ten worst things that could happen. Blowing out a harsh breath, he lets his head falls to the wall with a muted thud. The triumph saturates his thoughts–Louis welcomed his touch and accepted him. In the world of the Council, the Alpha class is the _ruling class…_ too an extent. The Omegas rule all aspects of emotional-links. To have an Omega welcome your touch is special. Touch is _always_ special when accepted. Otherwise, even if an Omega is in heat and begging, it is illegal to even dare think about forcing yourself on them.

It’s one the few laws the Council got right.

Sighing low in his throat, Harry digs his mobile from his pocket and phones Zayn.

A harsh groan fills the silence. “What.”

“You up?”

There’s a distant shuffle. “Have you taken up the habit of asking stupid questions now?”

“I’m comin’ to get you. I’ve got a couple hours to kill.”

Over the line, the other snorts. “Such an honor ‘tis.”

Harry grins (he’d almost forgotten Zayn’s dry humour). “Damn right. Be ready.” Then, he hangs up.

An hour, three fags, a long shower and some minutes later, Harry drops Zayn back at his house. The male smirks mockingly, turning on his heel and calling, “Not too late, kiddies!”

Harry grins, on the road towards Louis’, before dialing his number. “Hello?”

“Hey, love, I’m on my way. You ready?”

“Yep,” the boy chirps. “See you soon.”

Harry pushes the speed limit, in a rush to see his boy again (soon still sounds to long). Sometime after, the Alpha pulls up to the curb, stepping out of the car to lean on the side with a lazy grin. The anticipation is whizzing deep within, leaving him lightheaded in the most addictive ways.

Abruptly, the hand reaching for his phone freezes, his senses blare and on instinct, his head whips up to find the Alpha from the first day storming up to him, brown eyes hard with barely withheld fury.

“ _You!_ You aren’t supposed to here!” And _really?_ Of course taking Louis out would have complications.

Harry manages to hold the careful smile in place, though his teeth clench against a growl. “Yet here I am…” _Magical , ain’t it?_

“I know who you are, Harry _Styles._ And Louis is _not_ for _you,_ ” the other male’s voice rises to a shout.

Something clicks in his head–this Alpha is in love with Louis… _His_ blue eyed Omega.

 _Mine!_ “And he’s for you?” he shoots back. His Alpha begins to growl furiously, wanting excessively to hurt the other… but by now Harry knows better. Physical damage is nothing compared to emotional (the sort of damage that chips at the ribs and teeth and deep inside your heart).

“I didn’t say that,” Liam snarls, defensively, taking another step closer. “But you–you’re just toying with him.”

Harry stares, unimpressed. “Liam,” he says evenly. “You obviously don’t know as much as you seem to think. My…interests in Louis are not any of your concern, so, I’m asking nicely, back the _fuck_ off.”

“Oh, I don’t? How about the parties or the drinking, better yet, all those meaningless _lays!_ As if the whole town doesn’t know the shit you’ve done. You’re a real piece of shit, Harry Styles. And everyone fucking knows it.”

The words strike home, but Harry absorbs (has learnt how to handle) the pain and uses it fuel his fury. With a growl, he stands straight, curling his hands into fists and baring his elongated canines. “You asked for this.”

In seconds, the Alpha has calculated the most effective method to take the bulkier down, about to attack when a voice calls, “Harry?”

Nothing matters but that _voice_. Every one of his muscles lock, the buzz swathing him like a second skin as his eyes fall shut. The sound assaults his every sense, the emotions–excitement and fluster–alter his own.

Just like that, the rage dissipates and Harry realises he can’t fight Liam–it would ruin every careful preparation thus far and the Alpha will stop at nothing to keep his Omega happy.

Threats in his eyes, Harry goes against instinct and turns his back to the other Alpha, facing the drive where Louis stands. The initial, most troubling change, his lovely hair is gelled up (in a way that cannot possibly be comfortable). Covered in all black, the boy seems incredibly frailer which only has Harry questioning the reliability of such thin material. _Can that even protect him against the weather?_

“Harry…” this time the voice is unsure.

Annoyed at himself, Harry calls, “Here, love!”

Mercifully, the little _v_ is replaced by a cheerful grin as the boy starts to hop down the six steps (all the while, Harry holds his breath, a chilling fear twisting his insides and preparing him to catch the boy before he falls…except, he _doesn’t)._ Gracefully, he makes it to the ground, walking straight down the drive without even edging the flawlessly trimmed lawn.

For a moment, Harry forgets Liam, caught up in the absolute elegance and confidence in the boy’s saunter. This is a place Louis is comfortable with–a place his eyesight cannot effect him. Just watching makes Harry blow with pride.

At the gate, Louis’ breathing is quicker (an effect of rushing) and his cheeks are flushed prettily. “Hi!”

Equally as breathless, the Alpha stares into the Omega’s eyes, mesmerised by the blue pools and wishing, once again, that he were able to drown there. It would certainly be a lovely way to go. “Hello there.”

Liam-The-Puppy ruins the moment by muttering, in a disapproving tone, “Louis.”

Those blue eyes widen in alarm, flittering in the direction of the Alpha’s voice. “Liam? What…What are you doing here? I told you I was busy!” his voice, much to Harry’s satisfaction, raises a decibel in anger.

Liam crosses his arms, a pitiful hurt flashing in his eyes. “You lied to me, Louis. You said –,”

“I said _nothing!”_ the boy hisses, an unknown emotion bleeding from him, one that Harry recognises as…dangerous.

“Enough,” Harry interrupts, glaring pointedly at Liam. Nobody–not even the Alpha himself–is permitted to speak to his Omega that way. “Louis, are you ready to leave?”

Eyes to the floor, the boy nods, extending a hand that Harry takes (rather smugly), running his thumb along the smooth skin as he guides him to the car, opening the passenger side to help him in. Louis’ eyes remain closed, but it doesn’t noting to hide the humiliation brimming inside him. It clouds Harry’s thoughts with a dangerous red and the vicious impulse (one that hadn’t even registered when Liam insulted _him)_ to beat the crap out of the Alpha for upsetting his boy, is almost impossible to refuse.

Mustering what’s left of his self-restraint, Harry shuts the door softly and spins to face Liam, unfazed by the steel in the other Alphas eyes. “You do one thing, _one thing,_ to hurt him Styles and I swear –,”

“I won’t,” he finds himself promising before despite it all, Harry understands Liam–there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do to ensure Louis’s happiness either. “I’ll have him back around nine.”

Nodding curtly, Liam promptly starts in the opposite direction, footsteps heavy. Harry doesn’t bother to watch him go, instead he tunes into his Alpha, composing himself before joining Louis in the car with an easy smirk. Discreetly (though there isn’t really a need for it) he confirms Louis’ gotten buckled and pulls out.

Unexpectedly, Louis asks, “What kind of car is this?”

Warily, Harry glances at him, aware of the way his hands caress the leather fabric of the seats and the interior. “Would I seem like a spoilt brat if I said an Audi?”

The Omega doesn’t appear the least bit surprised as he arches an artful brow. “Most definitely.”

Harry grins, perfunctorily making the first turn. “Well,” he rakes his mind for the worst car he can think of. “Then it’s a Ford ’91.”

Louis grins slyly. “Alright, say I buy that, will you tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope, it’s a surprise,” he answers matter-of-factly. “All our dates will be.”

Petulantly, Louis crosses his arms, mumbling, “I hate surprises.”

“I can change that.”

“That a bet?”

“Yep,” says the Alpha. “And when I win, I get a kiss.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry catches the spark of determination in the smaller boy’s eyes as he says, “You’re on. And if I win, no more surprises.”

They make it an official deal–which Harry intends to win–one way or another, he will make it so his Omega _loves_ surprises…Starting with this one.

As the ride progresses, they banter and Louis becomes more confident with each remark. The Omega is smart-mouthed, Harry realises with a shock, working harder to provoke the smaller boy. All too soon, after his latest note on the pros of surprises, they reach their destination.

Once the car is parked, Louis mutters, “Who in their right mind would want their _present_ to be a surprise? I mean, what if it’s the complete opposite of what they really wanted?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Harry says lightly, unlocking the door. Its _loud_ –children shrieking, rides in action, mates and families chattering happily. Before Louis can ask, the Alpha is opening the passenger door and tugging him out of his seat (much too aware of the soft feel of his waist beneath his hands, even over the clothing).

As soon as the Omega is steady on his feet, Harry puts distance between them. “What-? Is this…like…?” he fumbles (it’s rather endearing but then again, even breathing is endearing when it comes Louis).

“It’s a carnival,” he tells, then to be precise, “We’re just outside London.”

Louis’s eyes go round, the blue colour of his eyes sparkling. “I’ve never been to a carnival before.”

“Would you like to now?”

“I would,” he says, smiling that shy, small smile. “Please.”

Grasping the boy’s hand firmly, Harry leads them towards the entrance at a slow, easy pace (careful to walk around the rushing children). They’ve just entered when he spots a game-stand and eagerly tows the boy to it. The stand turns out to be called _Duck Shoot,_ which the Alpha thinks should be easy enough (even with his shit coordination).

“Sit,” he orders and silently, Louis does so, shifting as the excitement erupts more fiercely. The man at the stand–a Beta dressed in red and white stripes–explains the rules. All the while, Harry smirks, paying him and palming the plastic gun, aiming at (the now) passing ducks. The first try…isn’t exactly a success (by that, Harry means the shot ends up feet away from the original target).   _So much for_ easy.

Several (unsuccessful) attempts later, and the bloke decides to intercede. “Listen mate, why don’t you give the other lad a try…?” His expression clearly adds _‘save-us-all-the-trouble.’_

Harry sighs in defeat, but twists to Louis–who’s eyes are ever-so patient (which, _honestly?_ Zayn would’ve cuffed him way earlier.) “You wanna give it a shot, boo?” The endearment–from the dreams–is all that’s stuck with him.

The boy bites his lip. “You’ll show me?”

“Doubt I’ll be much help,” he mutters under his breath, but pays the block another few pounds, placing the toy-gun in Louis’ significantly smaller hand. Gripping the object, the boy looks ridiculously fragile, but Harry keeps that to himself, stepping behind him and firmly placing his index finger on the trigger.

With a (unnecessarily) loud shrill, the game begins and the ducks start their rounds. The first one approaches the target.

“Shoot,” Harry says and on command, the boy pulls the trigger…And the duck flags down in a perfect strike.

“Did I get it?”

“Yeah…” he answers in disbelief (only at the fact that _he couldn’t get it)._ “You did. Okay, boo, focus…” The next round begins.

“Now… _shoot.”_ Again, the duck goes down with an announcing _ping._ In the background, Harry catches the Beta’s wide-eyed, awed stare. That’s right, he thinks smugly, _my remarkable little Omega._

One more and Louis wins… “Shoot.” It’s marvelously accurate–bells chime and chorus in celebration.

Giddiness surges from the boy as he shrieks, “I won?!”

“You won,” Harry confirms, dazed by the flawless smile on Louis’s face as he stares up at him with those tempest coloured eyes.

“Congratulations!” the (forgotten) stand-man says–relief evident in his tone. “What prize would you like, lad?”

In question, Louis looks back to him. “Er…”

“The gray wolf,” Harry supplies, pointing out the right one. The Beta hands the stuffed animal over to Louis–who grins widely, hugging the wolf to his chest. “I loved that! We have to do that again before we go!”  

From behind the stand, the man moans in disagreement, but Harry can’t care, the enthusiasm is impossible to contain. “Whatever you’d like, love.”

“Oh! Can we…Is there candy floss?” At the hope in the Omega’s voice, Harry’s smile widens (to the point that his cheeks ache). “’Course there’s candy floss, silly. This _is_ a carnival.”

Then, the Alpha tugs the Omega in the direction of the concession stands–instantly, sighting the ‘Candy Floss, _Here!’_  Stand. After purchasing a pink (Louis is adamant about _pink,_ stating, “it’s better than the blue! That just tastes off”) candy floss and two bottled waters, they sit at a bench furthest from the stands and the commotion.

Louis picks happily at the floss, shining so brightly, Harry feels (as he stares) it’s blinding _him –_ and that’s a chance he’s willing to take. Though, it doesn’t last long, his Alpha picking up the presence of another, seated at an empty bench not too far from their own. The bastard keeps glancing over at Louis (who is painfully oblivious, savoring his treat).

In warning, Harry (gently as possible with his growing aggression) tugs the boy closer into his side, glaring pointedly at the other male. Louis tilts his face so their eyes meet, but doesn’t move. Instead, he singles out a portion of the fluff and extends his hand in offering. “Here Haz, you have to try this!”

Mouth suddenly very dry, Harry swallows, but bends forward to take the floss between his teeth (careful not to nick the boy’s fingers). It’s sweet in his mouth, though Harry reckons the taste is nothing compared to what the Omega must taste like. For a painful moment, longing wounds up tightly in his stomach, though the Alpha quickly crushes it.

“It’s alright,” Harry murmurs. “But, I’ve tasted better.”

With a gasp, the boy jerks backwards a fraction. “ _O!_ Come off it. This is brilliant! What could possibly be better than this?” _You._

Harry coughs. “Um…Chocolate?” _Definitely you._

“Ugh,” Louis grumbles in disgust. “Chocolate is so mainstream, Harry?”

When Harry glances again, after discussing the reasons _why_ chocolate _can_ and _cannot_ be termed as “mainstream”, the Alpha is nowhere in sight and he decides the male must’ve gotten the message. Groaning low in his throat, Harry snags his empty water bottle, then mutters, “I’ll be right back, Lou.”

Having gone back to his floss, the Omega nods uninterestedly and Harry rolls his eyes fondly, but heads over to the nearest rubbish bin and disposes the bottle.

Just as he starts back in the direction of Louis, an ice-cold front of discomfort shoots through him. Something isn’t right. Growling, he rushes back to the bench–that’s when he sees him, the Alpha from earlier, standing close – _too fucking close–_ to his Omega and telling him something he doesn’t catch underneath the ringing in his ears. The Omega’s eyes are pinched shut, legs held tightly to his chest in that (unbearably) defensive manner.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” he demands, voice cold.

The other whips around to face him (with the attention no longer on him, Louis releases a shaky breath that does nothing to diminish Harry’s rage. He had made it perfectly clear who Louis belonged to).

“What’s it look like, _mate?_ I’m having a chat with–Wait, are you…You’re Harry Styles.” _That’s right, fucker._

“Get. The. Fuck. _Away from him,_ ” he snarls, taking a step closer and baring his canines. His vision is obscured by crimson.

The other Alpha raises his hands palm first in surrender, taking a few steps backwards. “Sorry, mate. I didn’t know he was yours.” _The hell you didn’t._

Harry’s Alpha nearly snaps (growling uncontrollably–wanting blood). “Fuck off.”

With a (satisfying) anxious look the bastard hurries away, swallowed by the crowd. Harry fights the instinct to chase him down and make him _truly_ sorry. As he struggles, the boy giggles which – _what?_

Distracted (more confused really because surely the boy should be in shock or something) Harry frowns. “What’s funny?”

“You,” the boy giggles again. Replacing the anger is curiosity as Harry searches those eyes, stupidly trying to gauge his thoughts but finding nothing but depthless _blue._

Louis takes pity on him. “It’s…oddly nice when you…defend me like that.” His eyebrows furrow, but then the smaller has to grin–outshining all the supernovas in the galaxy–and _mine._ Mine–the word flashes through his mind and he can’t help his answering grin.

“Glad to be of service, though I’m beginning to think you just attract trouble,” he murmurs, only partially teasing.

The Omega frowns–the light fading from his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” _Oh, y’know, I want you and so does half the Alpha populous. No biggie though._

Harry shakes his head in disgust. “Doesn’t matter. Come, let’s go on some rides.”

As anticipated, Louis’ eyes light up again. “The Ferris Wheel first!” Daring little Omega, his Louis is.

“Alright,” he allows, amused. “Ferris Wheel first then.”

High up in the air, Louis leans over the locked gate of their little cubical–blue eyes shut, the wind ruffling his hair (the gel having loosened over the hours) and a small, beatific smile playing on his lips. And up here, in the twilight, he’s the loveliest being ever to be seen. And Harry really just wants to drag him into his lap and know that they _fit._

“Lou?” the word feels _right_ on his tongue.

“Mmm…?” _Fuck, he’s so_ it _for me–_ everything even.

“What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I’ve been missing out…” his voice is barely a whisper over the winds. “But, I think its okay…Because I rather enjoy being here with you.”

Harry’s heart does that weird thing again and the buzz jolts and wrings and scrapes at his insides in the most mind-blowing ways. “That’s…good…Yeah, that’s good,” he croaks lamely, hanging onto the single thread of self-control (keeping him from pulling the boy into his lap).

After the Ferris wheel, they go on several (more like a dozen) more rides, the last one being a rollercoaster–which after, has Louis leaning into his side, face (worryingly) pale. Even more worrying, he looks a bit dizzy (understandable with _that ride)._

Harry is about to suggest taking him home when Louis chirps weakly, “Haunted House next.”

“Louis, I dunno if that’s a good –,”

“Chicken?” the other challenges.

Harry rolls his eyes, but feeds into it. “Last one.”

Once, after a short wait, they’re both seated, the Omega’s grips the bar trapping them. “It’s dark, isn’t it…?”

Frowning, Harry murmurs, “It’s a Haunted House, Lou.”

“I know…but I really hate the dark…” his voice quivers and Harry blinks harshly, realising that he’s actually _scared._

“Hey,” he breathes, daring to wrap an arm around the boy’s waist and bring him closer. Louis sighs, leaning into his side as Harry pries one hand from the bar, intertwining their fingers. “I’ve got you. You’re fine.”

In response, Louis nods faintly, tucking his face into the Alpha’s shoulder. Warily, Harry grins, slightly amused at the sudden change in the boy from only rides before.

A dark voice starts to speak, though Harry hardly listens because Louis flinches. The Alpha hugs him closer, growling unconsciously as the warmth seeps.

“This is horrible. Stupidest idea I’ve ever had,” the boy mutters as the first pop-up monster flies forward.

Harry laughs. “It looks so fake, boo. There is honestly nothing to be afraid of.”

Over the booming sounds, he almost doesn’t catch the boy’s little, “promise?”

Squeezing his hand, Harry does so, and the rest of the ride Louis is relaxed, only clutching the Alpha’s hand tighter whenever another screech sounds. Then it’s over and they’re released from the bars confines.

Harry is surprised to see Louis’s legs wobble as he steps onto the landing, clutching his wolf to his chest. He looks almost…childish and it’s painstakingly adorable.

Slowly, the Alpha tows the Omega away and the carnival is emptying now, just a few lingerers here and there. “Ready to leave now, boo?”

Wordlessly, the boy nods and they make their way back to the car where Harry helps him inside, then joins. Starting the engine, he catches the time and asks, “Does your Mum know you’re out with me?”

 “Erm…Mum knows I’m _out…”_ he hedges, chewing nervously at his bottom lip.

“Just not with me?”

A guilty look clouds his features and Harry doesn’t like that look instantly. “I’ve not gotten around to that yet…”

With an easy smile, he shrugs, taking the boys hand. On the returning ride, the silence is comfortable, both Omega and Alpha becoming familiar with the other’s presence until they reach Louis’ house.

Harry keeps the car running, they’re hands (even outside) somehow end up tangled again as they slowly make their way up the drive, dragging out their time. At the door, Louis sighs. “Thank you, Harry…Really...I had _fun.”_

Again, the buzz threatens to strangle him, but he forces it to retreat. “Does that mean I can take you out again?”

“Are you asking?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, squeezing the Omega’s hand once. “After all, I still need to prove surprises can be _good…”_

The boy beams brilliantly, looking up through his thick eyelashes. “You do,” is all he answers.

Reluctantly, Harry mutters, “Give me your keys.”

Louis does so and Harry unlocks the doors before returning them…Then, he releases his hand and places it on the handle. “Sweet dreams, love,” he whispers, leaning down to brush his lips to the boy’s soft cheek, inhaling the rich scent deeply.

From there, he forces himself to retreat, watching the boy stumble into the house from his car. The Alpha within claws viciously, close to surface and snarling, _mine_ and _claim him,_ the likes.

Harry promptly raises the volume, effectively drowning that side of him out. Nothing can possibly ruin the mood Louis has given him. The complete bliss.

That night, Harry feels his heart grow two sizes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts anyone? C;


	8. Part Eight;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, it's here! I'm so sorry to have kept my darlings waiting, but this is a long one and I'm very pleased with it! I hope you all will be as well!
> 
> I would like to thank my sister for all the support and ideas! (simplyxhazza.tumblr.com)
> 
> (YES, for all my non-new readers (or Ziall shippers) Zayn has been changed to an Omega. I'M SORRY. Don't hate me, but this is important to future chapters! I hope you guys will forgive the random change, & if you do, you ROCK! But if you don't...well, again, I'm sorry & you still rock!)
> 
> To all my readers, much appreciation! & lots of love :)

Through the nights Harry Styles begins to appear in Louis’s dreams–which even after three months, still comes as a shock because the Omega has never dreamt based on reality. His dreams have always been empty…of meaning, sense, _truth._ Just _empty…_ sort of like life prior to meeting a certain Alpha.

Except with the dreams, his form of unconsciousness began to change, thrilling with the same electricity that charged whenever Harry himself was around. And Louis tosses and turns restlessly, waking often, though the gripping panic (also) occurs much less often now.

Only in the early hours of the morning does the Omega finally sink into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. Still, all too soon, he’s awake again, still tired, but even more edgy.

His measured movements are premeditated–having his Mum dress him at fourteen had grown ridiculous (not to mention terribly _awkward_ for the both of them). It was an issue that had needed little convincing to remedy. In the end, his Mother had formulated a strategy that didn’t include him, a growing boy, having his _Mummy_ see him starkers every day.

Familiar with his bedroom, Louis dresses quickly, a sudden surge of irritation chipping at his self-esteem–he probably looks a proper mess. It’s weird for him to think this way, since he’s never paid much attention to his appearance in the first place (but honestly, why bother?).

Shaking the pesky emotion away, Louis pads off into the connecting bath, mechanically brushing, flossing, and (attempting to) calming his nerves. Once his heart isn’t racing anymore, Louis makes his way downstairs, careful not to disrupt the hush that’s settled over the house with the girls fast asleep.

Breakfast is the usual, quiet event with Jay brewing a cuppa whilst Louis grabs a granola from the correct cabinetry. His tummy is in knots as he chews a bite, wondering when his Mum will pounce.

Not even minutes later, she answers his unspoken question. “You’re up early. Liam hasn’t even arrived yet…” Jay begins, shuffling about the kitchen.

Inwardly, Louis cringes–more at the mention of Liam (who is still cross with him). “He…Um,” he swallows passed the lump in his throat. “He’s busy this morning. Something about finishing an essay.”

There’s a horrifying pause before, “Would you like me to take you?”

In attempt to gather his muddled thoughts, he takes another small bite of granola, barely tasting it. “It’s fine, really. Niall’s brother is going to take us.”

“Greg?”

“The very one.” And that’s the worst part about this entire situation. He hates having to compose careful _lies–_ worse, having to tell those lies to his Mum. Before this, he’s been able to put this entire conversation off, only venturing below after she’s finished breakfast and gone to wake the girls.

Now, a dish clatters, the derisive sound ricocheting in his head. “And you’re sure you wouldn’t just let me take you?”

“I’m going with Greg, Mum,” he mumbles, glaring in the direction of his tangled hands (a nervous habit).

He can feel the older Omega is going to press, but his phone alarm signals first. Hastily, as to not give her the chance to object, Louis snags his messenger bag from where it hangs on the island stool. “That’s him,” he supplies uselessly. “Please, Mum, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you at dinner, yeah?”

“Just…be careful, boo.”

“I will, Mum,” he assures softly, already familiar with Jay’s worries–though she _could_ be a tad (ton) smothering, he could never fault her for caring too much.

So, without another word, the Omega stumbles out the front door, practically jogging down the drive and flinging the gates open. Harry is already there, because Harry is _always_ early, because Harry has taken him to school every morning since the carnival.

At the memory, a shudder runs down Louis’s spine. Their first (only thus far) date was…so lovely–their first date was _more;_ it was heart-achingly _perfect._ And for the Omega, it always would be–even when Harry Styles decides he’s too much baggage and responsibility. Louis isn’t thick; he isn’t counting on _forever…_ But, for now, while his heart rabbits in his chest and everything (even the suspicion that his Mum is peeking through the curtains in the living area) sort of fades into nothingness. Nothing _matters._

Caught up in his thoughts, Louis thinks back on those (few) times Niall or Liam have taken him out. Niall–laid back as the Irish Omega is–always seemed to forget that Louis isn’t…comfortable being left alone with strangers and would too often end up surrounded by people whose names Louis couldn’t even begin to recall. With Liam, it was the exact opposite; Liam would always hold his hand so that he wouldn’t bump into someone or humiliate himself. And though Louis loves his best mate, there’s always a multitude of shame whenever they’re together that makes the Omega want to lock himself in his bedroom and never face the world again.

More pressing, Liam’s hand doesn’t feel quite right; his grip is too tight, his hand isn’t large enough and his fingers not long enough. Liam’s voice isn’t slow and deep and it certainly has never stolen the breath from his lungs. Liam isn’t –Without warning the Alphas heat saturates Louis’s atmosphere and that lovely weight over his lungs has him struggling to breathe evenly, his head bowed so that his fringe falls over his forehead messily.

The thing is, by now he should be used to Harry picking him up, it’s practically become habitual…Yet, it’s impossible to accept something like this. To accept the feeling that Harry Styles evokes in him, the high that his scent ignites, the daze his very _voice_ puts him in. So yeah, the Omega should be used to this…but he _isn’t_ and doesn’t think he ever will be.

“Louis?” that voice brings his thoughts to an abrupt end.

“Um, sorry,” he mutters, forcing his heavy lids open. “Did you say something?” 

With a strange-sounding laugh, Harry cups his jaw between sure fingers, forcing Louis’s face up. Louis tries (really, he does) to smile, but his lips turn down instead, though he hardly notices (lost to the sensation of the Alpha’s touch). 

“Okay?” the low, soft tenor is traced with concern that has the smaller boy making the effort to form (somewhat) coherent sounds.

“Okay,” the word is only a breath, but it’s true, everything _is_ okay. It’s okay that his insides have turned soupy. It’s okay that he’s growing (dangerously) infatuated with Bad News and that Bad News has decided he’s _more_ than what everyone else seems to believe. It’s… _okay._

In response Harry hums and drops his hand, but before Louis can miss the touch, their fingers tangle. Harry’s hand is so much larger, it _envelopes_ his own and strangely enough, his Omega purrs, completely blissed out under the Alpha’s strength. Inside the car, Louis leans into the seat, sighing low in his throat at the heavy scent of leather and cologne and Harry.

As the car starts down the street, Harry murmurs, “Zayn wants to meet you…Like officially or whatever.”

Startled, Louis bites his bottom lip. There’s a (forbidding) part of him that’s afraid to meet the other Omega, who’s so close to Harry, the Omega that can see and is normal and (more likely than not) absolutely perfect for the infamous Alpha. Yet the other, selfish side wants to hang on Harry’s arm and make it clear to the other that…well, that Harry isn’t _his_ Alpha.

 _Not yours either,_ his Omega sighs, disappointed though Louis doesn’t bother to acknowledge that. “You should introduce us,” he blurts. “Like, um, today, I mean.”

“Actually, it can’t be today…” somehow, Harry Styles manages to sound (almost) apologetic.

Louis considers this, attempting to compile the possible reasons as to why not (alas, he just isn’t _that_ imaginative, which is extremely annoying). “Why not?” the question leaves his lips without permission.

“Z–Er, Zayn is skipping today.” _Skipping?_

Louis twists in his seat, facing the other eagerly. “Do you…like, skip together?” he wonders curiously, feeling his cheeks heat at the naïveté in that question.

Harry laughs–that oddly reassuring, loud, deep cackle. “Sometimes. Not today though.”

Because of me, Louis realises dully, wringing his hands in his lap again and turning away to hide the disappointment that’s surely on his face. He doesn’t want to hold Harry back. And that’s the issue; that’s _always_ the issue with him…But, it doesn’t have to be, a small, barely-there voice reminds.

That’s right, Louis thinks with a sudden excitement, it _doesn’t_ have to be.

“C-Can’t we skip…?” he tries timidly.

The Alpha’s answer is immediate. “No.”

Louis is about to protest when the car comes to a screeching halt. In seconds Harry has exited the driver’s side while the Omega sighs, slowly working up the nerve to put up a (somewhat) valid argument as he unbuckles. Once the Alpha has helped him out (distancing them the moment Louis’s feet touches the ground) the smaller crosses his arms, but doesn’t step away from the vehicle. “Why can’t we, Harry? What, too scared now?”

A harsh, menacing growl carries between the space separating them and Louis flinches, but doesn’t dare back down, refusing to be swayed by Alpha tactics. “We’re not arguing over this, Louis.” 

The Omega only scowls. “I want to skip,” he says, repressing the urge to stomp his foot like a child. “I don’t see why you’re so against it now!”

There’s a long, guttural groan before Harry speaks again. “I won’t have you getting into trouble because of me. We. Aren’t. Skipping, Louis.” This time his tone implies the end of discussion but _no–_ just this once, Louis will have his way (even if it makes him sound bratty).

“Fine,” he snaps. “If you don’t want to skip with me maybe Zayn or _Liam_ will.” Minutely, the bait lingers, but Louis expects Harry’s reaction ( _two_ can play the ‘tactic-game’) and isn’t at all surprised when the Alpha breaks–stalking towards him purposefully. Nonetheless, Louis retreats until his back is flattened on the car and Harry is crowding him with both hands braced on either side of his face.

Louis swallows, torn between being unsettled and thrilled. Oblivious, Harry leans impossibly closer, “Zayn and _Liam_  best keep their distance from you,” and _oh no,_ his voice is _so_ deep that Louis has to bite back a whimper because instantaneously his will begins to dissipate (dang it, it isn’t _fair!)_ “If they value their lives, they will.”

He’s _serious,_ the Omega realises with a sharp inhale. Strangely enough, knowing that doesn’t send him in a panic, but instead has his hands lifting to either side of Harry’s throat before breathing, “Please, Haz. Just this once…”

And just like that, something changes between them. Harry tenses around him, lean muscles coiling and (effectively) imprisoning the Omega who worries his bottom lips, fishing for something to say when an idea comes to mind. “I-It can be a date,” he stumbles over his words, grasping the opportunity desperately.

The Alphas answering groan sounds so much like surrender. “It’s not a surprise,” he points.

“But it can be,” Louis presses, forcing himself to raise his face to the other, in turn exposing his eyes (which Lottie continuously tells him are far too open to the world–hence his determination to hide the dull, useless things away). “You can take me wherever you’d like.”

For what feels like too long the only sounds are their muffled breaths and Louis's racing heart (which the Omega reckons Harry can hear as well). Then ( _finally),_ Harry mutters, “Wherever?”

The other’s pondering tone makes Louis bold. “Sure.”

“No arguments?”

“None,” Louis nods, pleading with his eyes.

“ _Christ…_ Fine.”

Instinctively Louis recoils, except there isn’t anywhere to go and all he can do is snatch his hands back and lower his face.  “D-Don’t be angry,” and the Omega hates that his voice wavers with the venomous guilt he’s trying so hard to conceal.

Harry doesn’t miss a beat, cupping his face in one of those unreasonably large hands. The touch is enough to keep the Omega quiet. “Hey, none of that. I’m not cross with you, love–,”

“But–,” Louis starts to protest though Harry doesn’t allow him the chance. 

“Not going to say I’m not angry. I _am._ Just…not at you. Never at you.”

“ _Oh,”_ Louis says, more to himself than to Harry. “I’m…glad.”

Then, the Omega grits his teeth, fighting a smile because it’s one of those rare times he isn’t acting happy (as he should be). It’s one of those rare times he _is_ happy–ecstatic even. Stupidly so.

**//**

Thankfully (for what’s left of Harry’s sanity) the Omega _doesn’t_ smile. At this point, Harry just isn’t _that_ in control of his Alpha and without a doubt, if Louis’s cheeks warmed a bit more and those thin, strawberry coloured lips titled into the smile he’s fighting Harry wouldn’t be able to keep himself from discovering just how those lips would feel against his own. How the boy’s smaller, curvier body would feel lined up with his own lankier body or the _taste–_

Wincing at those thoughts, Harry forces his legs to draw back, glaring daggers at those who’ve stopped to gawk rudely. Rather quickly, they piss off, though the Alpha doesn’t realise, engulfed in Louis’s feelings–disturbed by the degree of happiness over _skipping,_ of all the things.

“You’ve caused quite the scene y’know,” he notes absently, more to distract himself than anything else, though the boy’s answering blush sends a thrill up his spine.

Even though the Omega does a surprisingly good job at hiding it, by now Harry is too emotionally attuned to him and instantly detects the discomfort chipping at his sure calm. “I don’t care,” he grumbles stubbornly.

And Harry inhales sharply because _fuck,_ the rebellion in his voice is so (ridiculously) hot. So much that his muscles flex with the effort to remain still and his cock throbs in his trousers, already thick and heavy.

“Mm,” is the only answer the Alpha can provide that won’t end in a growl–fuck’s sakes was he an idiot to think he could somehow be able to keep a level head around this little boy. As if.

Rolling his tense shoulders, Harry inhales deeply twice, before grabbing the boy’s hand; the distinct current welcomes the touch, teeming between their bodies. Then again, it’s probably just him, because Louis tries to take his hand back, seemingly unaffected by him (just his bloody luck too).

Still, Harry doesn’t allow the other to let go, grip unyielding as he tows the smaller around and into the passenger seat. Harry takes his time trudging to the other side, rebuilding his mental guards against his Alpha. With every step, his mind races, rapidly trying to process what the hell had just happened– _oh, right,_ that strange, exasperatingly _soft_ (and small) piece of him had happened– _Louis Tomlinson_ had happened.

The engine purrs to life as Harry notes that Louis has become quite comfortable beside him–that Louis is _quite_ stunning and there isn’t any hope of getting over that. No, he won’t, because the Omega isn’t someone to get used to easily. At least Harry can’t fathom _how._ Even when they’re arguing over something as pointless as skipping Louis is loveliest sight.

And being completely honest, skipping really isn’t anything spectacular. The only two reasons the Alpha ever does so: when the night-before comes back to fuck with his head or…weed is involved. Which, hell no, Louis is _not_ going to be introduced to that if he can help it.

He values the boy’s innocence too much to be the one to taint it.

Shaking his head, Harry connects his iPhone; his playlist starts up instantly, a soft tune fading comfortably into the background.

Abruptly, Louis’s head whips around, guileless eyes wide. “Coldplay?”

“You’re fond of them?” he asks warily, turning in the direction of the manor placed on the outskirts of town.

 “Who _isn’t?”_

“Those with shit taste,” he replies vaguely. “And the Script?”

“My absolute favourite.” The words are muffled enough that Harry glances at him, confused to find the Omega has gone into hiding, twisted so that his stare is aimed at the windows rushing blur. Even his emotions are out of focus.

Some long buried instinct has the Alpha reaching out to the smaller boy, but before making the contact, he snatches the hand back, reluctant to suffocate him. Instead, Harry turns the volume up a bit, giving Louis his space or as much as he can tolerate without going insane.

 All the while Harry hums along to the next song–Black Flies–and lets his own mind wander. By the time they arrive at the gates of the manor he (still) hasn’t figured out one damned thing…but Louis has relaxed and has that achingly soft smile playing on his lips so Harry thinks that’s alright.

Without thinking, Harry pulls over on the curb, putting the car in park but letting it run. “I’ll be right back."

Louis blinks, eyes large and lost for a moment before the little _v_ forms between them and Harry feels an unfamiliar tinge of guilt. “You’re leaving me here?”

“I’m just going to grab a few things. I’ll be four minutes, promise,” the Alpha mutters, not wanting to be responsible for that look.

“Fine,” the other grumbles, turning back to the window dismissively. Amused, Harry smiles, thinking Louis’s middle name must be _difficult_.

“Four minutes,” he repeats before ambling towards the front doors–which promptly open to reveal another nameless butler, whose aged face is turned down in a frown, but wisely, the older male doesn’t comment on his unexpected arrival.

A frisson of annoyance run’s through the Alpha at the stunned looks given by the members of the cleaning crew, bustling about the lounge. _Yeah, yeah. It’s just a_ smile. Disregarding them, Harry saunters upstairs, snatching a thick throw from the cabinetry before daring to go below, into the kitchen. Mercifully, it isn’t very hard to find the contents he’s looking for, but apparently he thinks too fast because the canisters are nowhere to be found. 

Two minutes have already passed and frustration begins to flare up inside him when a small, petite Omega enters the kitchen. With a startled gasp, she freezes, “M-Mr. Styles, I-I didn’t know you were…uh…here?”

Preoccupied, Harry waves it off, mumbling, “Harry. And it’s fine,” rather than being a little shit and reminding her that this is where he lives. Then, the Alpha continues to rummage through another cupboard.

“Um,” the female–whom Harry had assumed already gone–starts, “Don’t mean to pry, but is there something I could help you with?”

 _No–Yes–Whatever._ Grudgingly, Harry mutters, “Could you point me in the direction of the canisters?”

“Right this way.” As it turns out, the staff has recently relocated all the dinning materials to the storage unit. Hastily the Alpha collects the necessaries, then pauses, “Er…thanks.”  

“Cassie,” the other supplies with an awkward smile.

“Cassie then,” he grins lopsidedly before hurrying towards the door with an armful of supplies. In attempt to reach the car in the fifty seconds remaining, Harry doesn’t even shut the doors behind him (unconscious of the curious stares burning into his back from inside).

And so the Alpha practically trips into the door (no doubt looking like an idiot), declaring elatedly “Made it!”

But of course the boy in the car begins to snicker, “My God, Haz, did you _run?”_

 _Basically._ “In your dreams,” he taunts mischievously, setting the carrier in the backseat before slumping into the driver’s seat.

“You know, Styles,” Louis starts, “After listening to your playlist…I’ve learnt something very trying.”

Curiously, Harry quirks an eyebrow, clasping his seatbelt and leaving the curb to get onto the main road. “Which is?”

“You’re one of those hipsters!” he cries, laughter colouring his tone.

“What? _No–_ Not at all!” the Alpha protests, “Just don’t tolerate that pop shit.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Then what,” the Omega asks smugly, “is _this?”_ Only then does Harry realise ‘3rd Planet’ is playing–which _of bloody course._

“Certainly isn’t pop shit,” he tries, momentarily grinning at the smaller boy who blinks once, shaking his head once as if to clear his thoughts (which puzzles Harry because it’s probably the one time he _hasn’t_ said something daft).

To reassure himself of that, the Alpha grabs ahold of Louis’s hand, delighted by the way it disappears when his own hand closes around it. Neither says anything, but then again, they don’t ever have too.

Unconsciously Harry raises the boy’s knuckles to brush his lips across them softly, catching his answering gasp underneath the music but choosing not to comment. The ride continues like that, Louis relaxes until he even begins to hum softly to every song he likes and (foolishly) Harry plays every song by ‘the Script’ or ‘Coldplay’ on his playlist just to hear that lovely voice a while longer.

All too soon, they’re parked at the end of the trail deep in the thick woods. “Where’re we?” Louis asks, voice carrying like the cool breeze underneath the suns harsh, blistering rays.

Harry licks his lips, but keeps his gaze strictly ahead at the sunny opening (it’s one of those rare times the sun has appeared without disturbance) casting lovely rays of light over the meadow.

“Supposed to be a surprise, member,” he croaks lamely, his heart stalling in his chest because _fuck,_ maybe this isn’t the place to have taken Louis for their second outing. Maybe it’s too early; maybe Louis won’t even _like_ being here. This place that has been Harry’s _space_ , this place Harry keeps safely locked away in his mental-closet. This is the space that’s been with him through it all, a space filled with so much beauty it’s impossible to think the world is all hurt and loss. A space that Louis belongs in. A beautiful, delicate space.

Louis stays silent until, “Won’t you show me then?”

Uselessly, the Alpha nods, opening his door and rounding the car before Louis has time to open his own door. Smiling up at him, the smaller holds out a dainty hand, “Guide me?”

And fuck the energy soars and pulses through the entire length of his body, giving him no choice (not that there ever was one) but to link their fingers, marveling at the differences again, at the sparks erupting inside him.

Effortlessly, Harry tugs the Omega from the car, carefully steering him through the smooth, high grass until just before they reach the collection of wildflowers. One, small step forward and the two have created their first imprint on the gorgeous meadow.

Wordlessly, Harry crouches, picks the one flower that most reminds him of Louis’ eyes–a single blue hydrangea–and (with a deep, nervous breath) gently places it in the other’s palm.

Obviously confused Louis slowly closes the hand around it, his other hand tracing the petals cautiously. As Harry holds his breath, Louis’s breathing hitches and breaks.

“Harry.” 

Dying to know, Harry blurts, “What are you thinking?”

Without looking at him, the boy shakes his head, but something glistens, like a crystal, on his cheek and– _fuck_ that Harry had made him _cry_ screws with his head.

“Don’t cry,” he breathes in horror. “Fuck, I didn’t–I…”

Without warning the Omega springs forward and instinctively Harry absorbs the little extra weight, bringing his arms around the small boy’s waist as those slim arms snake around his shoulders, legs at his waist, face buried in his throat. Harry doesn’t dare to breathe or move or think…The indescribable sensation burns within his lungs.

“ _Flowers,”_ Louis sniffles, tears muting his pretty giggle. “It feels so beautiful. It _is,_ isn’t it? I mean… _flowers!_ All around us. W-What colours are they?”

Swallowing, Harry murmurs, “They’re all sorts of colours, Lou…Christ, there’s yellows and pinks and reds and…like the sun’s out you know, like bleeding it’s warmth into them…Supporting them…The way I want to support you.”

The boy in his arms makes a little noise, much like a sob, but with Louis even that’s a beautiful sound. “We’re…going to destroy them if we keep on.”

“No, Boo, we’re not,” the Alpha disagrees lightly, trying to concentrate on speaking and not the hot, little puffs of air Louis is releasing on the base of his throat. “We’re leaving our footprints here. Creating another world of beauty, like…like the story…A whole new world that’s…”

“Perfectly imperfect.”

“Yeah…” he breathes hoarsely, inhaling the rich scent, accented by the sudden breeze and nearby flowers. “That’s exactly it. Come; let’s write stories with our feet.”

The Omega laughs at that, but untangles his short legs and lands gracefully, intertwining their fingers (the hydrangea nestled between their palms). “Can I lead?” his voice is a plea and _really,_ who is Harry to deny him now?

“After you.” Louis’s answering smile is brilliant in the sunlight, ingenuous eyes glowing. And this time, Louis is towing Harry forward confidently.

“Us,” he declares quietly. “This is _us,_ then.”

Despite himself, Harry grins. “Right. LouisandHarry. You and Me. Friends ‘til the end. Partners in crime–which naturally means we make rude gestures at nuns and talk dirty in French. _Ad infinitum,_ etcetera, etcetera.”

Louis snorts prettily (surely that shouldn’t be possible?). “Oh hush! That’s not even French!”

Just as they reach midway, the Alpha realises Louis hasn’t eaten all day–which can’t do. “Stay right here. I forgot something.”

“How typical,” the other remarks in an (adorably) reproachful tone.

“ _Heeey,”_ Harry complains, “I’ll have you know–,”

“I reckon you’re about to claim you’re an A plus student?”

“Well, s’only true, love,” the Alpha shrugs, releasing his hand to head towards the car in the distance.

Once everything is gathered Harry stops where Louis is on his knees, running his hands over the mass of flowers. As he begins to unpack the coverlets Louis peers up at him through those thick lashes, “More surprises?”

“A picnic,” is his only reply. In minutes the snacks are set out (breads, fruits, cookies, the likes) along with canisters of sweet tea and water. Grinning lazily, Harry stretches out on the coverlet, patting the space beside him. “C’mere.”

Crawling over, the Omega sit cross-legged beside him (so close Harry notices they way his legs aren’t nearly as long, or the way his head only reaches Harry’s shoulders…) Shaking himself, Harry says, “You need to eat.” And…they do.

Harry finds out Louis’s weakness is sweets–fruits and cookies and tea. And damn him–all those little details make the boy that much more desirable. It’s criminal.

Soon, the sun is almost gone and everything is packed away again. Louis talks animatedly about the time Niall–the blonde Omega–gave Liam a nose bleed and Harry laughs uncontrollably at that, thinking Niall is an alright lad after all.

As Harry stares, committing the image of Louis under the pale moonlight to memory, the boy murmurs, “Harry?”

“Mmm?”

“I-I want to play.” And just like that, the Alpha growls to life and the energy kindles.

 _Play–_ it isn’t strange for an Omega to engage in ‘play’ with their Alpha, but…for Harry this is another first. There hadn’t been a time when the Alpha wanted to even consider mating or acting on mates play…Except now the idea fogs his brain with want, and the blood rushes to his cock, already semi-hard with the Omega’s scent clouding his atmosphere.

“Do you now?” his voice carries huskily, the Alpha timbre lining the words.

Lips parted, the boy breathes, “Yes.” 

Harry bites back a growl, playful and aroused and–All at once, with a come-and-get-me grin, Louis scrambles to his feet and turns in a dead run.

Acting on impulse, the Alpha dashes after him, his only thoughts: _mineminemine._ Yeah, Harry has to have this boy.

Turning sharply, Louis manages to speed up some, but Harry does too, gaining speed.  And the Omega laughs–the sound carefree and exhilarating–as those short legs carry him even further.

“Hellion!” Harry calls, choking on his own laughter.

The Omega doesn’t stop. But, fuck does Harry love the challenge.

In seconds, the Alpha is closing in and Louis must realise this because he gives a little whimper, pushing himself harder–but not hard enough.

Harry catches the smaller boy around the waist in one arm, tugging so that the other loses his footing and ends up sprawled on Harry’s chest, breathing shallow around his laughter.

“Okay, you caught me,” the Omega admits, “Now what.”

“Now…’m going to punish you,” he murmurs darkly. “For being such a bad, little Omega.”

Louis gasps–the sound goes straight to Harry’s cock. “How? How are– _Harry!”_ the boy yelps in shock as the Alpha pins him on his back–body spread out beneath him.

Like this, cheeks flushed the colour of the roses beside them, owlish eyes vivid as hyacinths, hair a mess in his face, Louis looks like _his._ Completely and permanently _his_. 

Yeah, Harry is quite gripped by the sound of that. Sue him.

“Louis, Louis, Louis,” the Alpha drawls because hell, the name leaves a saccharine taste in his mouth.

“That’s…That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.” Even breathless, Louis is still so very smart mouthed. Go figure.

“Ah, ah, ah. I didn’t ask you to speak.”

“And I don’t–,” he balks as Harry braces himself on his forearms, bringing their face only inches apart–the proximity rages and shifts, their heartbeats racing in sync.

“You were saying?”

Those blue eyes become thin rings but Louis says nothing. “Answer me, Louis.”

At that, the Omega wheezes, “N-Nothing, God, Harry…Just…”

“Just what, little one?”

 “You were right,” Louis blurts. “I-I…You win, okay. About the surprises...They’re…alright. With you they’re…ace.”

And Harry’s equilibrium is damned straight to hell–well, something had to go sometime. Impossibly, his heartbeat quickens, thoughts going a mile a minute.

“Louis,” is the only word his mouth can form. Still, the other doesn’t make another sound. “Louis, please, say something.”

“ _Why?”_ he seethes finally–the fury ablaze within him erupts. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you taking me out and playing with me and making me think I’m any more special than the others or that I even _matter?”_

Too stunned by the outburst to do anything but listen, Harry realises Louis doesn’t _know._ He doesn’t know…but he will.

When the Alpha is sure Louis has finished, he shifts onto his side, hugging the clueless Omega to his chest. “You’re so special. And you _do_ matter, Louis. You matter a lot. And…And I’m quite smitten with you, if I didn’t make that obvious enough.”

“You…You fancy me?” the Omega asks unsurely.

“Yeah, Lou,” Harry sighs tiredly, running his hand down the boy’s side soothingly. “Of course I do.”

They’re both silent then, absorbing the truth in those words. And it’s a novelty for Harry, who’s never seriously been interested in anyone before. Hell, he’d even go so far to describe himself as misanthropic.

“Hey, Haz?” Louis shifts, so that those eyes are revealed, swimming with an emotion Harry couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” Well, fuck him.

“I know.”

“Will you?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“Please…” the word shreds through the Alphas insides because Louis deserves so much _more –_ Louis Tomlinson deserves everything because that is exactly what he unknowingly gives Harry with just a smile or even a frown. And Harry vows to show him that.

Now though, Harry will settle on bleeding his all into this kiss. Cupping the younger’s cheek tenderly, the Alpha’s eyes flicker from those eyes to those inviting lips. “You sure?” his voice is rough with want.

And Louis Tomlinson nods without any hesitance. Ever-so-slowly, as too give the boy a chance to change his mind; Harry dips forward, until the warmth radiates from Louis’s cheeks to his own. For an abrupt second the Alpha drowns in the blue depths of Louis’s eyes, overwhelmed by the ecstasy being so close grants.

But those eyes flutter shut and Harry’s lips connect to Louis’s own. It’s light and tender and Louis’s lips are soft as any flowers petals, so inexperienced against Harry.

Nothing else matters. The world could burn around them and Harry wouldn’t notice or care.

With a shaky breath, Harry pushes his lips only slightly more, desperate not to ruin this or take it too far. This, _kissing Louis,_ is absolutely new to him, it’s delicate and sweet and just… _better_ than…every other.

The current jolts between them as the Omegas hands clutch his shoulders, nails biting painfully, in ways that make the Alphas head spin. Too quickly, his self-restraint begins to wane and alarm bells sound in his head, forcing Harry to pull away–except Louis shakes his head frantically, mumbling, “No…Again.”

Smiling gently, Harry plants another, firm peck on those swollen lips. Then, the Alpha surrounds his Omega, arms circling his waist so that his head is tucked underneath his chin.

Without a doubt, they _fit._

“I’ve gone quite mad,” Louis whispers suddenly.

Harry tightens his arms. “Mm…”

The Omega twists, but the Alpha holds him tight and fast so that his warmth won’t fade. Blowing out an annoyed breath, Louis says, “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“Do I want to know?”

“Haz!” the other says–almost scolding–and Harry laughs, pinching his side playfully. 

“Okay, okay! Why do you think you’ve lost it, Louis?”

“Well…It’s a secret.”

“I can keep a secret.”

“Can you?”

At the question, Harry shakes his head, unsurprised by the lack of annoyance at this pointless lengthen of conversation. In fact, he’s more pleased by it.

“Mmm,” he hums. “I can.”

“Okay. So, I’m supposed to be the defenseless Omega and you’re the Alpha that Mummy warned me away from, yeah?”

The Alpha chuckles. “Let’s say that then.”

There’s a trace of humour in the other’s voice now. “So, isn’t it stranger-danger for me to be frolicking about with you?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “ _Stranger-danger? Frolicking?_ Whatever happened to LouisandHarry?!”

“Harry, be serious,” Louis grumbles, squirming uselessly. “We are _exactly_ that. Strangers.”

“Stranger’s don’t do this, Lou,” he murmurs, making it so that Louis ends up sprawled over his body again. Again, Louis squeaks in surprise…but, he doesn’t move and that’s a monumental victory.

“But…We’re different, Haz,” is his only reply.

And yeah, Harry thinks, they are _different,_ but for now, different is perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again, I know why won't I just shut up!?
> 
> But I'd love to hear your thoughts! It really helps!  
> .xx


	9. Part Nine;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooow, this is a lengthy one! :) (another date, yay!) I'm actually kinda happy with this part and I hope you all will be too. 
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for the kudos and comments and just for being lovely. 
> 
> Lots & lots of love to you all,  
> .xx

“Louis…” that extremely deep, extremely nerve-racking voice calls in the smoggy distance. “Gatta wake up, boo.”

Desperate to remain here, where the warm, intoxicating scent constrains his very being, the Omega ignores those words. Except, barely seconds later, the voice is murmuring, “C’mon, little one, it’s late…” but Louis is too sleepy to care.

“No…” the word slips past his lips involuntarily. “Lemme sleep.”

There’s a skeptically fond sigh before gentle fingers brush the stray strands of hair from his face. The touch urges him closer to the oblivion the Omega craves so badly. “Your Mum is probably sick with worry, babe…” somehow, the voice sounds almost reluctant to say so.

“Don’t care,” Louis sighs–not yet recognizing the odd depths to those words–those wound up feelings. “Rather be ‘ere anyway…” then, the smaller boy leans into the rough hand cupping his cheek.

At the answering silence that follows Louis nearly begins to hope that the silence means he will get his way again. But, apparently, two times in one day is wishful thinking because abruptly, a heavy hand wraps around the span of his shoulder, shaking him lightly. Whining in protest, the Omega mumbles, “Haz… _stop it.”_

“Louis,” Harry, the horribly, wide-awake, Alpha starts, “I’m counting to five before I resort to carrying you.”

And _really,_ they’re back to playing games, are they? Louis fights the amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “That’s rather drastic, don’t cha think?”

“One,” is Harry’s only response.

Without permission, his lips soften in a drowsy smile. “Haz, this is silly…”

“Two.”

“Not feeding into this…’m not,” Louis persists.

“Three…Four…”

“Nope. Not listen–!”

“ _Five.”_  And whoever said an Alpha’s word meant nothing is a proper knobhead.

With a startled gasp, the entire world becomes unfocused as Louis is lifted from the car. Frantically, the boy clutches the defined muscles of Harry’s shoulder blades, yelping, “Okay! Okay! ‘m up! Sheesh!”

Despite the words, Louis doesn’t struggle, because Harry blazes over the cool, brisk air, swelling over the Omega in strange, hot bursts. A violent shudder runs up Louis’s spine, his body unwinds and becomes aware that Harry’s hands are splayed at his side and underneath his thighs in a tight, secure grip.

And, all at once, the Alpha’s scent becomes that much stronger. In attempt to keep from whining, Louis’s canines worry his bottom lip…his head spins uncontrollably.

Oblivious, Harry laughs throatily–the sound travels from Louis’s ears, down his throat, in between the hollows separating his ribs…even his _tummy._ The warmth and the scent and being cocooned in Harry’s arms have the exhaustion sinking into his bones. But, the Omega imagines the slope between Harry’s shoulder and throat would make the perfect pillow.

“Lou,” Harry murmurs as Louis stifles a yawn behind his hand.

“Mmm…”

“Tomorrow, we’re going out properly. Like, with your Mum’s permission.”

There isn’t a choice. Under different circumstances, the notion might terrify him immensely, but this _is_ Harry…And, though some might call him stupid, Louis trusts the Alpha. Besides, it has to happen sometime. “Mhm.” 

“Now, though,” the Alpha hums, his nose nuzzling Louis’s cheek tenderly. Again, the little sound, much like a purr, leaves his lips without permission, but Harry’s hold tightens around him in response, so Louis isn’t all that embarrassed by it. “It’s cold and you’re about to fall asleep again. Let’s get you inside.”

Sighing, Louis says, “Fine. Lead the way.”

“As you wish, little prince,” it’s horribly trite, and there’s a Cheshire grin in his voice as the Alpha strides, _with Louis still in his arms,_ confidently up the drive.

Before the Omega can protest or think to struggle, they’re at the front door (as Harry’s come to an abrupt halt). So, Louis unleashes the next best thing: his mouth. “Because who needs legs, _honestly._ ‘M perfectly capable of _walking.”_

Of course Harry Styles doesn’t feed into the argument, instead Harry Styles chuckles and sets him on his feet–without any effort whatsoever though Louis is almost positive he doesn’t weigh a mere three stone but _okay._ Upright, the smaller boy sways, loosing balance quickly, but not before the Alpha catches him, sounding needlessly worried. “Whoa. Feeling okay, love?”

“’’m okay, Harry,” the Omega says hastily–being fussed over makes him uncomfortable. Especially when it’s really nothing. “Just…tired, is all.”

Then, too distract him Louis snags his keys from his pocket and shoves them out towards the other expectantly. Wordlessly, Harry takes them and seconds later the door unlocks with a muted _click._ And, there it is again–the inevitable goodbye.

“I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

To Louis’s disappointment, the Alpha doesn’t sound nearly as reluctant to leave as Louis is for him to go…but then again, the boy thinks helplessly, why would he?

Sighing, Louis nods, going to turn when those rough, large hands close over his cheeks.

Anticipation coils in his belly and his tongue darts out to lick his lips…Except Harry doesn’t kiss him–not where the boy desperately craves it most at least. That gentle, practised mouth scatters kisses along his nose, his chin, his jaw, both his eyelids…

A rush of butterflies flutter through Louis as his breath comes faster and his knees go weak and…and…thinking becomes impossible.

“Sweet dreams, Louis,” the Alpha mumbles into his hair with one last, lingering kiss. Somehow, Louis ends up alone with his bag weighing on his shoulder and his mind in a never-ending daze.

In that daze, Louis stumbles inside, realising it _is_ late–judging by scarily calm it is, the girls must be in bed already–which means it passed their 7:30 bedtime. Sagging against the doorframe, the Omega brings his trembling fingers up to his lips, still tingling with the memory of Harry’s lips over them.

It was everything Louis had wished for in a first kiss–so much more than the Omega could have ever imagined. A little voice nags at him though, _wondering_ whether Harry had been so gentle because the Alpha could sense how insecure Louis is or…maybe it was obvious Louis hadn’t welcomed another’s affections before. Because, what Alpha would want an Omega who–?

“Where have you been?” Jay’s voice startles the Omega from his reverie. Panic swells in his throat. He is in _so_ much trouble.

“M-Mum…”

“Louis William Tomlinson,” his Mother retorts. “Do you realise what time it is? You were supposed to have been home _hours_ ago. I have _called_ and _texted_ you more times than I can count and–. Explain, _now.”_

Right then, Louis decides a freak tornado or lightning bolt to the head would be _very_ welcomed. “I’m…I’m sorry, Mum. I hadn’t realised it was so late…and…and…I’m,” he stumbles stupidly, trying to think passed the panic.

With a deep breath, Jay says, “I was worried, Louis. I _am_ worried. You haven’t been open with me. Your apology is accepted…But, _please,_ talk to me.”

 _But…_ “I’m _scared,”_ is all Louis can manage to breathe as the traitor tears gather in his eyes. He _is_ scared. He’s scared that his Mum will freak. He’s scared she won’t understand…Most of all, the Omega is _terrified_ she’ll not allow him to see Harry again.

At the thought, a quick gasp, gasp, gasp of air drags through his lips. Anxiety–something the Omega hasn’t felt since… _since…since…_ Oh, no, no, no–lashes at his lungs.

In seconds, his Mum envelopes him and Louis sinks readily into the warm embrace, letting out all the pent-up frustration from the previous  few months, the tangle of frayed emotions; just clinging to his life-boat; his only _constant._ Jay murmurs loving little reassurances until the attack subsides, leaving him numb. Nonetheless, the small, blue-eyed boy feels light enough to breathe again.

Drawing back a bit, Jay brushes the last, few stray tears away, speaking softly, “Come. Let’s talk over a cuppa.”

The words cause Louis to smile a bit. They _always_ have deep conversations over a cuppa. It’s his Mum’s trademark “this is big” implement. They’ve always followed it. So the Omega follows Jay into the kitchen and sits at the nearest stool of the island while the older Omega brews the tea.

“I talked to Liam this evening,” she comments. “Says you two haven’t spoken in a bit…”

“We _haven’t,”_ Louis whispers sourly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Come on, boo, tell me what’s going on.”

And Louis does. The words won’t stop–starting at the first meet with Harry Styles to the present. Now, his breathing is labored from talking so quickly and his heartbeat is an insistent _thump, thump, thump_ in his ears.

For a while, his Mum doesn’t speak, but then the stool beside him draws backwards a bit and a cup of steaming tea is placed on the island counterpane in front of his wringing hands.

“Well, I suppose, I’ve been expecting something like this would happen,” but Jay doesn’t sound put out or even disappointed. She sounds _knowing._

“What…?” the Omega asks, confused.

“Oh, Lou,” his Mum sighs. “You’re such a gorgeous boy, so kind and smart and passionate with all kinds of aims. You might not be able to see it, but you don’t need too. It’s _inside_ you. And you’re growing up, baby, I-I know I’ve not been the most _accepting_ of Mother’s but –,”

“What? _No–_ Mum, you’re so good to me! But I know it’s been hard, keeping up with the girls and work and _me…_ Just…I didn’t want to worry you because I thought you’d be…put out because I haven’t thought anything through…And I know it’s foolish, fancying the first Alpha that gives me the time of day…but…I didn’t want to upset you,” he rambles anxiously.

Quietly, his Mum murmurs, “Louis Tomlinson, have I ever given you the impression that I do not trust your judgment?”

“No, but–,”

“Does this Alpha treat you right?”

“Yes, but–,”

“Do you fancy him?”

“Its borderline pathetic,” he whispers shamefully, blushing to the tips of his ears.

“Then, why, in Heaven’s name, would I not give the lad a chance?”

With a sigh, Louis runs his pinkie over the teacups brim. “You wouldn’t…I was just–,”

“Scared? It happens, love. Trust me, I know. Now, tell me _all_ about the notorious _Harry Styles,”_ she teases, tapping his nose playfully.

Eventually the Omega might just die of embarrassment–but Louis tells her even so–how sweet and patient Harry is, that the Alpha _must_ be absolutely gorgeous and–

“Mum, this might sound odd, but I swear when we’re together…all the puzzle pieces fall into place. Like everything is put into perspective. I’m on cloud-nine…And I swear, sometimes, Harry can feel that too. He can feel what I feel and it’s the same for me–,”

“ _Soulmates,”_ Jay interrupts.

“Um…Sorry?”

“Oh, it’s…It’s nothing. Go on.”

Louis wants to press, but then he remembers, “Mum…Did…Liam, like, ask…?”

“Louis, you need to have a long, nice chat with Liam. Some things need to be said,” his Mum says sternly.

“What _thing?”_ he asks, suspicion colouring his tone. Does his Mum possibly know something he _doesn’t?_

“It’s not my place. Just talk to him.” Soon, Louis decides, he will. They can’t avoid this forever.

For a while, Louis falls into comfortable conversation with his Mum, who agrees (after some pleading) to keep the embarrassment to a minimum tomorrow evening.

But soon, the Omega struggles to keep his eyes open and Jay shoos him up to his bedroom, where he changes and crawls into the middle of his bed with his messenger bag on his shoulder. There, Louis catches his flower in two fingers from where it’s placed in the front pocket and brings it to his nose.

Smiling fondly, the Omega is careful to set it inside the side-table, where the girls won’t mess with it.

Even when it dries up, Louis thinks it will still be beautiful.

 

**//**

Harry groans awake, his heart beats erratically, but not with panic. Unconsciously, the sharp points of his canines sink into his bottom lip, the slight of pain travels straight to his cock–rock hard against his stomach.

With another low groan, Harry shifts, shoving his face in the pillows, though it does nothing to remove the image branded in his mind.

His Omega. His small, fragile Omega on his knees, lips swollen from his kisses as those wide, cerulean eyes stare up at him, swimming with trust, _waiting, obeying_ his Alpha.

_Fuck._

Growling, Harry clenches his fists around the sheets, breath coming quicker. Powerless to stop it, his hand wraps around his erection and begins to squeeze the damned thing, imagining a smaller, softer hand working him instead.

The air in his lungs disappears as his hips grind down on the mattress. An orgasm slams into him and Harry struggles to breathe around the sensation. It goes on forever and in a haze, Harry wonders whether he’s come twice…Or possibly more.

Disgusted with himself, the Alpha sits up; prying his hand away from his cock to find the damned thing is _still_ hard. Well, whatever, he thinks, not about to make the mistake of giving it another go.

Sighing in frustration, Harry goes into the connected bath and runs the shower. After brushing his teeth and forcing his Alpha to chill the fuck out, the scolding water gradually loosens his tense muscles.

Sometime later, the Alpha emerges from the steam-filled bath, his usual energy having returned. Running a hand through his messily spiked curls, Harry dresses, shrugging into his worn, brown-leather jacket and snagging his keys on his way out the front doors.

By now the ascending sun lights the sky in hues of oranges and pinks. The sight sends a shock through him. Not because it’s overwhelmingly beautiful or anything, but because all Harry manages to think is ‘ _Louis will never see this’._ And that–that makes him slightly mental–dangerously, his mind shortwires.

Yeah, knowing that damages him more than any ruddy broken bone or cruel words or shit parenting or _any-fucking-thing._ Hell, right now, Harry wishes there were some way to gouge his own eyes out and offer them to Louis without looking as mental as he feels (or possibly suicidal).

Well, wouldn’t that be a surprise? that very twisted, masochistic part of his snorts. Even so, the Alpha doesn’t acknowledge that, lost in the cold torment that has its claws in his heart, threatening to leave him surrounded by lifeless _grey._

But _fuck,_ what he would give to know there was someone responsible that he could hunt down and–

 _Stop making it worse, Styles._ With a sharp breath, Harry swallows passed the lump swelling in his throat and starts the car’s engine.

The drive to Louis’s is long enough for him to compose himself –long enough for the buzz to ease over him again. Leaning on the car, Harry waits–though not for long.

A petite Omega, with feathery chestnut hair and tempest-coloured eyes rushes outside the Victorian date house. His heart flutters in that upsetting way, but before Harry can even think into it, Louis smiles shyly at him.

And… “Morning Hazza.”

**//**

Seemingly in fast-forward, the day blurs by until the dismissal bell startles Louis from his thoughts. As usual, the class has already emptied with only a few other students left. In a daze, the Omega grabs his bag and drifts out of the classroom, completely missing his assistant’s following words.

Outside the door, someone taps his nose lightly and on instinct Louis flinches away, then that someone announces, “Just me, love.”

Just like that the Omega relaxes, wondering, “How do you know my last class?”

“I’m very resourceful,” the Alpha replies easily, tossing an arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders and towing him in the direction of the lot.

“People are beginning to stare again,” Louis hisses, the stares burning holes into his back as he glares up (Harry’s so bloody tall) at the Alpha.

“I’m counting on it.” _What?_

Sighing indignantly, the Omega tries to decide whether Harry says these things to purposefully confuse him or the Alpha is naturally an enigma–neither would surprise him really.

“And that’s supposed to mean what?” he prompts, his cheeks heating ridiculously.

“They should know.” Know _what?_

“Harry,” Louis grumbles, stumbling over his feet. “Stop talking in riddles.”

“Louis,” Harry says quietly– _assertively_ , bringing them to an abrupt halt.

“Harry,” the Omega hisses again, attempting to tug the Alpha from the middle of the foyer. It’s useless; Harry is just so much _heavier._ “Come on. We can’t just–,”

“Louis, be mine.” And that shuts him up.

Well, not exactly. Somehow, Louis still manages not only to _breathe_ around the warm feeling fizzing in his belly, but _laugh_ (or wheeze…close enough). His fingers tighten frantically on Harry’s sleeve. “You’re _such_ a pest, you know that Styles…”

Then, as to make the other sweat a moment, Louis pauses, realising it’s gone suspiciously silent–though it’s probably because his focal point is Harry–depending on the Alpha to keep him from panicking.

“Okay. Yeah, Haz, ‘course. I-I’m yours,” Louis finally blurts, a bit breathlessly, but Harry Styles _wants_ him and Harry Styles makes him crazy–so, so _crazy._ That’s reason enough to be breathless, he thinks.

Without missing a beat, the Alpha begins to pull him through the hall until they’re outside, in the lot, where it drizzles lightly. “You’re gonna pay for those five seconds of hesitation, Lou.” Yet the words aren’t the least bit threatening–they’re soft and easy and engaging.

“I think I’ll live,” the smaller boy retorts, smiling sweetly at the other.

“I don’t know…” Harry trials, almost suggestively, ushering Louis backwards into the car. At the words, sensations – _searing,_ burning _, wanton_ –kindle and yearn low, low in his belly. Breathing through parted lips, Louis’s hands tremble where they’re positioned feebly on Harry’s shoulders. “I can be a vicious Alpha,” the looming Alpha continues, breath warm on Louis’s jaw.

“Vicious,” Louis repeats faintly. “I…I can handle vicious.” Or so he hopes.

Humming low in his throat, Harry drags his lips to the Omega’s ear, voice strong and husky and _oh._ “You’ll have too. ‘Cause you belong to me now.”

At the words Louis flushes with his heart-in-his-mouth. But like most times, Harry seems to get it, retreating and muttering, “Home…You need to get home.”

Absently the Omega nods, still marveling at the idea of belonging to someone–even without the bond. His Omega is _glowing–_ which doesn’t really come as a shock–what does: the way his mind is clouded with the words _belong_ and _mine._

Mulling over those thoughts, Louis doesn’t realise the car has stopped until Harry says, “Lou, babe, we’re here.”

“Already?” the Omega asks incredulously, then, “You were speeding again, weren’t you.”

“I wouldn’t dare.” But there is a definite smile in his voice.

For dramatic effect, Louis narrows his eyes and pouts, “Already lying to me I see.”

“Do you?” the question comes _sharp,_ almost offended, but Louis refuses to let that ruin his humour.

“The irony is not lost to me,” he grins impishly, his hand sliding over the door handle purposefully. Opening the door, Louis steps out of the car and out of reach.

“Seven,” the Alpha mutters as the Omega goes to shut the door. “I’ll be here by seven.”

With a small smile, Louis nods, fast-walking up the drive before fumbling with his keys. After three attempts at finding the lock, the Omega manages to get into the house. Instantly, without the Alpha’s scent scattering his thoughts, reality catches up to him.

Too keep from going into panic-mode, Louis rushes up the stairs (tripping up only a few times). Niall–Louis _really_ needs to talk to Niall.

**//**

                Harry’s never been on an actual date–a date that he’d actually opted for, requested, or had to meet parents, that is. And _that_ is how Harry comes to the conclusion that he is _very, royally_ screwed–which is more than bad for his ego.

Shoving a hand through his hair, the Alpha snatches his phone and dials. “Styles, could you call at a worse time? _Honestly,”_ the Omega’s voice sounds off-pitch but Harry is practically _panicking._

“I’m taking Louis on a date,” he tells the other–which, fine, not the _most_ detailed explanation, _but._

“And? How does that concern _me?_ ”

“I have to meet his _Mum,_ Zayn. Christ, I don’t even know where I’m supposed to take him! That is how this concerns _you.”_

Over the other line, Zayn shifts, “Hate to break it to you mate, but I’m not exactly Casanova.”

“But blokes have taken you out. Come on, Z. Where would an Alpha have to take you to win your affections?”

“Win my affections? Haz, since when has winning anyone’s affections…mattered?” Well, _fuck._

“Zayn,” the Alpha says through clenched teeth. “Stop pissing around. You know…You know this one is _special._ And I don’t– _can’t_ –fuck this up.”

“Alright, quit the Alpha-stat. Otherwise, you’re on your own.”

“I’m listening,” Harry snaps, thinking (for the millionth time) Zayn has never been so annoying.

“Your boy seems to be the shy sort or whatever. I reckon he’d be more comfortable staying in. Hell, you’re a kickass chief, Haz, why don’t you cook for ‘im? The Grade-A-Arsehole is on business this week anyway, yeah?”

“Have I ever told you what a brilliant little shit you are?”

Zayn snorts. “There’s a first time for everything I suppose.” Harry has never loved him more. “Go dazzle the pants off lover boy, yeah?”

Grinning, Harry hangs up and dares to step foot inside the manor. Tonight the place seems especially empty and cold, but the Alpha shrugs the feeling away and heads for the kitchen. Strangely, the Cook (an older Beta, who actually thinks Harry is quite funny, bless her) isn’t there…instead, the female Omega from yesterday is humming around the kitchen with ear-buds in.

A bit awkwardly, Harry taps her shoulder. She shrieks, nearly slapping him in the process and Harry backs away with his hands raised in surrender. “ _Christ._ Could give a girl some warn– _Oh._ Um, Mr. Styles! Sorry, I didn’t…”

“Harry,” he corrects again. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you, but is there any chance you know where Mrs. Jones is?”

The girl –Clarissa?–blushes bright red. “A-Actually, she wasn’t feeling well and –,”

“Cool,” Harry says uninterestedly. “Could you gather the rest of the staff and tell them to go home? I’ll double the pay or whatever. Just…I need the place to be emptied tonight.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, Harry begins to go through the ingredients for pizza (because honestly, who doesn’t like pizza?)

Sighing, the Alpha checks the clock and decides there’s no time to start cooking, seeing as it’s 6:17 and he needs to shower. As he goes to leave, the girl comes back, “Er…The staff is preparing to leave. Will there be anything else?”

“No, thanks,” the Alpha mutters, going to turn when, “Um, Harry? Just a warning, the others are…suspicious…I mean, I’m sure it’s nothing, but…” _Nothing new there._

“Thanks. I’ll…Uh keep that in mind.” Then, within seconds, he’s upstairs, shucking away his clothing.

Once finished, Harry dresses the best he has in ages, in dark trousers, a button-down white collar (over that is a thick, grey blazer) and leather-black boots. It’s presentable, he figures, before half-heartedly styling his curls. With a once-over-check of the manor (to make sure everyone’s _left),_ the Alpha promptly gets the hell out.

Twenty or so minutes later, Harry takes a deep breath, before ringing the bell at Louis’s door. Not even seconds after the door swings open to reveal his Omega. Covetously, Harry drinks in the sight of him: his feathery hair, bright eyes and pink cheeks. He’s dressed in sinfully tight, bright red trousers, a grey button-up and light gray _braces_ to match.

 _Mine._ At the sight, his Alpha growls to life, clawing at his self-control while the buzz does just the opposite; easing its tight hold over his lungs.  There’s no middle ground between the two.

“Hi,” the boy breathes–his nervousness floods through the invisible-bond and Harry’s hands begin to burn with the desire grab him, to close the space separating them.

“You look…” Harry pauses, struggling to find the right words. _Like mine,_ the words are bright-neon, beckoning him to say them, but that’s not fucking possible (yet). Still, the Alpha needs to assure the boy, who looks so nervous and unsure of himself. “ _Christ,_ you’re so gorgeous, Louis.”

“T-Thanks…” Louis says in a small voice–Harry is awestruck. Nothing matters, because this is _his_ Louis, who’s achingly unspoken with a personality so big and brilliant that Harry might suffocate and–

Suddenly, a tiny figure blurs by, two thin arms circle Louis’s right leg. Confused, the Alpha blinks, catching a little, barely audible whispers, “Lou. Your mate is too _big_ for you.”

Shrugging apologetically, Louis twists around before– “Daisy! I thought I told you to get on up to bed,” a woman calls, marching into the room with raised eyebrows.

“But Mum,” the little one–Daisy–whines. “I wanna say g’night to Lou-Bear!” _Lou-Bear_ , hmm?

Without any warning, Louis swoops down and gather’s Daisy up in his arms, tickling her. “Little _minx!_ Gatta listen to Mummy and get up to bed!”

Daisy shrieks, struggling wildly as his Omega carries her away, passing the older Omega, who watches the two fondly.

When they’re out to sight, Harry clears his throat, pasting a polite smile on his face and meeting the woman’s eyes, a familiar colour, but with a steely undertone that Louis’s don’t have, as she steps forward.

“Ma’am, I’m Harry. Harry Styles. Lovely to meet you,” Harry introduces to fill the silence. 

“Jay,” the woman corrects, smiling warily.  “Please, come in. It’ll be a few before those two quit messing about.”

Understanding, the Alpha steps inside, shutting the door softly behind him and assessing the house in the same movement. It’s _comfortable_ and warm and Harry can tell everything here is or has been used. It’s nothing like he’s used to…but the Alpha is more than okay with that.

“You have a very charming home,” he comments, staring at the photographs decorated on the walls–all smiles and sunshine here.

“Cheers,” Jay says. “So, Harry, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

“Well, there’s not much. I’m from Cheshire, but I've lived here most my life and I graduate this year.”

“And how old are you?” Ah, the investigation begins.

“Eighteen.”

“What are your intentions with my son?”

Holding the older Omega’s gaze, Harry straightens, answering honestly, “All I want is the chance to make him happy.”

A beat of silence passes before, “He’s a very special boy,” she agrees with his unsaid words. The atmosphere cools drastically as Jay realises the Alpha doesn’t pose a threat to her son.

Just as Harry goes to speak, Louis returns to the room, clapping his hands together. “Okay, I suppose we’ll be off now.”

Warnings in her eyes, Jay kisses the Omega’s forehead briefly. “Not too late.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Harry nods, shooting Louis a roguish smirk. “Again, it was lovely meeting you.”

“And not too much fun!” the fretful Omega calls as Louis practically drags Harry out the front door.

“ _Okay,_ Mum! Goodnight!” The words are dismissive and the Alpha shakes his head in amusement, but helps the smaller boy into the car.

Leaning forward, Harry asks softly, “Are you nervous?”

“Yes,” the boy breathes hurriedly, wringing his hands in his lap.

“Me too,” the Alpha whispers conspiratory. Louis’s eyes shoot up to meet his and Harry thinks he can read his thoughts there: _never._ Still, the Omega smiles his adorable, timid smile.

Beside him, in the car, Harry buckles and starts the engine when Louis begins, “So. Where’re we going this time?”

In response, Harry snorts. “Like I’d tell.”

The little _v_ forms between Louis’s eyes again. “Really, Haz? This again? I already admitted defeat.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry says, “Lou, would you fancy going to some posh, over-the-top restaurant?”

“Um…” the other fumbles. “Does it matter?”

Frowning, the Alpha murmurs, “Of course.”

“Well,” the boy mumbles. “Honestly, I’d rather stay in…B-But I know it isn’t my–,”

“Lou, spare me the Alphas-1-0-1. Tonight, what you say goes, yeah?”

“O-Okay,” Louis answers unsurely. “I suppose we should go to yours then.”

“Excellent.”

Plugging his iPhone in, Harry allows the music to sooth the atmosphere, relieved that the buzz is hardly recognizable now. Through the ride, Louis continually hums and already, this night is ace.

Parked in the lot, Harry intertwines their fingers and their hands swing between them as they walk towards the garage-side entrance. “What’s your home like Haz?” _What home?_

Uncertain how to answer, the Alpha simply says, “Big. Unnecessarily big.”

Humming, the Omega grins in question, “Like, secret rooms big?”

“Like secret rooms and creepy chambers big,” Harry affirms, unconsciously grinning back.

“And who lives with you?”

“You’re very inquisitive tonight,” the Alpha evades lightly.

“Deflecting again, are we?” Smart-mouthed, his Omega really is.

“’s just me and my Father.” Then, as to keep the subject from progressing, Harry asks, while unlocking the bolts, “How about you? Just your Mum and Daisy?”

At that, Louis laughs, allowing the Alpha to tug him inside and flick the light switch so that the obnoxiously magnificent chandler rains rays of light down on them. “Actually, it’s me, Lottie, Fliss, Daisy and Phoebe.”

Impressed, Harry comments, “Sounds loud.” So refreshing compared to the constant-silence taken refuge in this revolting manor that the Alpha often fantasizes about burning down.

“That a bad thing?”

“No…” the Alpha murmurs as they enter the kitchen. “That’s absolutely perfect.”

Wordlessly, the Omega runs his hands along the walls and counterpanes–mapping the kitchen, Harry assumes. “How do you feel about pizza?”

“Mmm. Love it,” Louis hums idly.

“Alright. Let’s get to work then.”

In shock, the boy whirls around, facing him. “You mean _we’re_ cooking? Harry, perhaps you haven’t noticed, but I’m _blind.”_ Trust me, the Alpha thinks bitterly, I’ve noticed.

“So?”

“So…I…like…I couldn’t even pick up a _kettle,”_ the smaller spouts, looking so frightened that Harry can’t help but laugh.

Irritation seeps from Louis as the boy crosses his arms.

“Hey, hey,” Harry murmurs gently, grabbing ahold of his hand and bringing him closer. “Don’t be angry. Do you want to cook?”

“I _can’t –_ I’ll…I’ll mess up and–,”

“Louis,” the Alpha interrupts. “Do you _want_ to cook?”

With a doubtful huff, the Omega mutters, “I want to try. But I know it won’t work out.”

Choosing to ignore the last part, Harry smirks, squeezing the boys hand encouragingly.  “Awesome. Let’s make some pizza.”

Turns out, cooking is an absolute disaster…and it couldn’t be lovelier. It’s everything Harry’d hoped.

Through struggling with the proper ingredients and locating them, the Alpha forgets flour. Of course Louis follows him into the pantry, but ends up grabbing the weighty bag too hastily and dropping it.

Flour whites the entire floor and Louis looks like he might cry…except _no,_ there will be no tears tonight. Somehow, the powder ends up in his hand…and then all over the Omega’s face…and it turns into a full-on flour fight and somehow or another eggs are being tossed and then there is a _huge_ mess that the staff will (no doubt) be furious about tomorrow and…well, there’s no pizza.

But Louis is giggling, flushed, a proper mess and the Alpha couldn’t be any more pleased. Ultimately, Harry is first to raise an imaginary white-flag. “Okay! Okay! Mercy, I give!”

Wide-eyed, Louis drops his weapon (a piece of _bread),_ gasping, “Oh…My God!”

“You made a mess,” Harry teases–again, the boy looks like he might cry.

“Why are you joking about this? This is horrible, Haz! Everything is…”

Blinking, Harry stands (an impressive dust-cloud in his wake) and catches Louis around the waist, nuzzling the boy’s hair, inhaling that fresh flower scent (maybe a bit of flour too). “Lou, baby, relax. It’s fine. The staff will clean it tomorrow.”

Louis leans into the embrace. “Staff?” he croaks.

“Cleaning-crew, maids, noisy-employees, the likes,” he notes.

“They’re going to be extremely livid. We should at least attempt to straighten up a bit,” his kind-hearted Omega suggests hopefully.

“Oi. This is a _date!_ There will be no such actions taking place.”

“But–,”

“ _Nope._ No buts. I’ll clean it tomorrow. And anyway, you need to eat.”

“Harry,” the boy whines. “I’m a mess!”

“Hmm,” the Alpha starts. “How about I order take out while you shower then? You can have my clothes.”

“Hershey Dunkers,” Louis mumbles (whatever those are, Harry thinks).

“Deal. Come; let’s get the shower running and…er, yeah.”

Nodding, Louis allows the Alpha to lead him up the stairs and into his bedroom, where Harry hands him a black jumper, grey joggers, and the guest-towels. Then, Harry runs the faucet, making sure the temperature is good enough before coughing, “Um, I’ll be outside…You can use whatever you’d like.”

With about as much composure as possible, Harry leaves the bathroom to change from the soiled clothing into fresh ones and wash his face in the other bathroom. Quickly, the Alpha dials and orders the take out before heading below, to the lounge, where he turns on the wide-screen telly and paces the room to keep himself in line.

The pizza arrives before Louis is finished and Harry pays before settling the boxes on the table and pouring glasses of sweet-teas.

“Harry?” a quiet voice says.

Worried Louis might attempt to get down the endless-spiral staircase, Harry jogs to the foot of the steps and replies, “One sec.”

But when the Alpha’s eyes land on the Omega his breathing catches because _fuck,_ his small, compact body is swimming in Harry’s clothes, the jumper hanging to his knees and the sleeves rolled up. Even the joggers are rolled up and…his clothing must be _scenting_ him.

Obliviously, Louis fiddles with the sleeves, mumbling self-consciously, “Looks ridiculous…I know.”

Unable to fight it, Harry closes the space, splaying one hand over the boy’s lower back, the other around his throat. His nerve-endings spike at Louis’s sharp gasp. He feels it too.

Inhaling, the Alpha finds that the boy _does_ smell like him and that turns him on unbelievably. Driven by the combined scent, Harry leans forward until his lips close over Louis’s soft, pliant ones.

 _Mine._  The urge to claim, to taste him, surges through him violently, but Harry retreats, breathing heavier with effort. Louis’s eyes are shut, lips swollen; so pretty and lovely.

“They look better on you,” the Alpha’s voice is guttural. The smaller boy’s eyes flutter open and confusion hovers. “The clothes,” Harry reminds gently, watching his cheeks turn a delicious shade of pink.

“Doubt it.”

“Don’t,” the taller insists sternly as Louis nods, his fingers hesitantly brushing Harry’s. Unconsciously, the Alpha locks their hands, taking them down into the lounge.

Some rom-com plays on the telly while Louis nibbles on his first slice. Harry doesn’t dare touch the food, the basic instinct to insure his Omega’s health is much more fulfilling than any food. Louis doesn’t seem to notice as the Alpha observes his motions; stares at his _mouth,_ yearning to have him eat from his hand.

Damn it, he really should have made that pizza.

Louis’s started on his first Hershey-Whatever when Harry breaks. “Can I feed you?” His voice never wavers.

Frowning, the Omega swallows a bite, mumbling, “I can feed myself, Harry.”

“Lou…” only this time _he’s_ close to begging. “Please?”

Grimacing, Louis shoves the treat at him, “You are _such_ an Alpha.”

“I know,” the older smirks, picking the Hershey-Thing from his hand, “Open.”

Obediently, the Omega does and with each bite, Harry finds his Alpha relaxing, completely content with taking care of the boy.  

Too soon though, Louis turns away from treat, muttering, “No more. I’m full.”

Nodding, Harry stands, stretching before grabbing the food and taking it to the kitchen. When he returns to the lounge Louis is curled up on the sofa, looking adorably drowsy. Grinning, the Alpha sits on the other side (Louis isn’t even long as the sofa), watching the boy fight sleep.

It’s getting late, but Harry doesn’t have the heart to wake him up again. The first time was difficult enough and recovery is still in action. Louis slips into unconsciousness seconds-to-soon and the Alpha lets the telly play in the background, completely riveted by the boy’s tossing and turning and his little mumbles.

Then its exactly ten and Harry has (happily) taken ten kicks to the ribs but knows it’s getting too late. Sighing, the Alpha reaches over and just-barely shakes Louis’s shoulder. Again, the Omega grumbles unintelligibly.

“C’mon, boo. Gatta wake up. You’ve fallen asleep on me twice now. I’m beginning to think I’m a bore.”

“’Course not, Haz…” the Omega sighs, sitting up with an adorably soft smile.

 _More._ The one, simple word erupts in his mind, slamming into his skull. And suddenly, he’s starving for the proximity, starving for _him_ all over. Crazed by it, Harry pulls the smaller boy forward, so that he ends up on his lap with a little “ _oof”._ A shiver runs up the Alpha’s spine as the empty chill begins to thaw.

Tilting Louis’s face, Harry probes those eyes, reassured by the sparks of warm satisfaction beyond all the other emotions raging there.

He has blue eyes, the Alpha thinks madly. _Bluer than the ocean or the sky…so damned blue._

Abruptly, Louis speaks. “Harry, this probably seems weird…but…Can I?” his fingertips wisp over Harry’s jaw in question.

Without hesitation, Harry nods, desperate for Louis to see him. Carefully, gentle fingers run over his features, starting at his temple, over his cheekbones, down the length of his nose, tracing his eyebrows, until ever-so-lightly, they drag over his lips. Just the innocent touch has the Alpha’s blood rushing to his cock, which _fuck,_ that’s wrong; this shouldn’t be so…provocative.

“Harry…What colour are your eyes?”

Mechanically, Harry blurts, “Green,” though he isn’t sure why it matters. How could Louis differentiate _black_ from anything? The question makes him wince, cold-fury rushing through him.

Louis nods, shifting out of Harry’s lap and onto his feet. When the Alpha opens his eyes, Louis is beaming brilliantly. “You should probably take me home before Mum grounds me.”

“Right,” Harry replies lamely.

“Don’t suppose there’s any way I can change back into my clothes…?’ _Not if I can help it._

“’Fraid not, love. Yours clothes are ruined.” True enough.

Louis pouts sullenly. “Mum is going to be suspicious. Ugh. I don’t even _want_ to think about the impending sex-talk. _No, no, no.”_

Chuckling, Harry says, “Let’s go, love. She probably won’t even notice.”

“ _You_ don’t know my Mother,” he grumbles, but let’s Harry guide him out and into the car. “ _God,_ I reckon she’ll call me _easy,_ ” Louis continues once Harry is driving and again, Harry laughs, because that’s certainly the _worst_ thing that could happen.  

Too soon, Harry is walking Louis to the door, running his fingers down the smooth skin of his cheek. Those eyes bore into his and Harry wonders if the boy senses the connection…

“So I –,”

“Harry,” the Omega cuts in, shocking the Alpha when he stretches onto his tiptoes and fleetingly kisses the corner of him mouth. “I don’t think I’m an expert chef or anything…but I’d like to try again.”

Harry grins, his heart stalls and surges forward, attaching their lips again, but this time, his tongue experimentally runs along the boy’s bottom lip urgently. His body hums in agreement. The taste explodes in his mouth; chocolate and Louis and _his._

Harry forces himself to back off, fully aware of Louis’s soft pants.

“We will,” he promises. “Go on. It’s late.” And the boy bites his bottom lip, turning away and opening the door.

The Alpha starts to walk backwards when Louis pauses, “Don’t even try leaving that mess!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the Alpha replies, catching the secret-smile on the Omega’s lips before the door closes.

**//**

And the next morning at way-to-early-o-clock, Harry is wide-awake and _cleaning._ Just like his Omega asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? C;


	10. Part Ten;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, it's been too long, & I'm sooo sorry for the wait. I'm shit, Ik.
> 
> This chap was supposed to be longer but I didn't want you guys to wait any longer so I decided to cut it & write the next chap as what would have been the continuation of this one! (hope that isn't confusing -basically, the coffee-shop meeting is the next chap.)
> 
> So...tell me how it goes!:)  
> Lots of love & thanks to you all

Louis feels sick. Actually, sick is an understatement. Some horrible, nervous feeling is curled up tight in his belly–a feeling Louis knows and does everything in his power to _avoid._  Attempting to quell the sensation, the Omega fidgets and chews at his bottom lip, reminding himself that he _shouldn’t_ feel this way. Not at all.

Because his Mum isn’t dragging him off to meet some stranger, no, this is Liam–his best mate since before all the chaos. Yet knowing that doesn’t stop the feeling from growing worse.

Too soon, the car stops, and Louis wipes his hands, sweat-slickened by nerves, on his trousers, holding still in (pathetic) hopes that Jay might not notice he hasn’t stepped out, or better, she’d _listen_ to him this time, and they’d go home.

“I can’t do this,” he blurts, voice obnoxiously high-pitched. “I-I don’t _want_ to do this,” he rambles on, _another_ attempt to make her see reason.

“Louis,” Jay says imperiously. “This is Liam. You will be _fine._ ” When the Omega doesn’t reply, she continues, “Besides, the two of you need to straighten this out before Karen and I resort to shoving you both in the closet and forcing it.”

“B-But…he’s probably asleep,” he mumbles weakly.

“Out, now,” is his Mum’s only reply–she knows Liam doesn’t sleep in, that’s just Liam.

“You’re the absolute _worst.”_ With that, Louis throws the door open and stumbles out. As the Omega goes to shut the door, Jay calls, “You’ll thank me for this later!”

Louis really, really doubts that. Frantically, the Omega goes through escape options, considering walking some other place (but instantly rejecting that option because his Mum is probably on the phone with Karen now, plotting his demise and at this point, the Omega _really_ doesn’t need to be grounded). So, with a sigh, Louis forces his legs up the familiar drive, where the front door flings open, and Karen’s voice sounds, “He’s upstairs, in his room.”

Forcing a smile, Louis goes to walk inside when slim arms crush him in an embrace. “Don’t let him fool you, he’s missed you. We all have. Don’t stay away so long again.” Comforted by Karen’s familiar scent, the Omega nods, then the Beta is shooing him up to Liam’s room. At the door, Louis bounces from foot to foot until (finally) knocking twice.

Liam’s answering voice is hoarse, “Who’s it?” And oh God, maybe he _was_ asleep, maybe he should just go, maybe…

Swallowing, the Omega croaks, “Lou…Can I come in?”

There’s a brief pause and Louis honestly considers running with his tail between his legs when Liam mutters, “You don’t have to ask, Lou. You know that.” Not anymore,he doesn’t.

Nodding uselessly, the Omega opens the door, poking a hand through, then one foot, then the other, and–, “Bloody hell, Louis, I’m not going to take a bite out of you.” Liam’s hand snags his wrist and yanks him (a bit roughly) so that the Omega stumbles inside, just barely catching his balance.

“Um...Hi,” his voice shakes, his hands tangle and Louis feels very awkward.

“Why’re you here, Louis?” That question sucks. It sucks a lot…because Louis is so _sorry_ for whatever he’s done wrong. And he wants his best mate back; wants to make this _better._ But sometimes, Alpha’s lack feelings and it really freaking _sucks._

Louis flinches. “What? Now I don’t matter? I don’t have to ask to come in, but I have to explain why I’m here when it’s so obvious I’m here because you’ve been avoiding me like the plague and…and…I miss you. Jesus, Li, I miss you. Isn’t that _enough?_ ” Please, let that be enough…

“Oh, please,” the Alpha retorts. “Spare me the pity-party, Louis. You know how much you matter to me. You–,”

“You don’t ignore someone who matters, Liam. You don’t. So cut the crap and just tell me what’s going on because this…I…I love you. You know I do. And I don’t want to…lose you,” by the end his voice has lost its steel and the misery seeps through.

Liam laughs, but it’s empty and bitter and–, “But you love him more. _Already_. You’re falling and he’s not even _right_ for you…”

That’s what this is about…?

With a sharp inhale, Louis breathes, “You…You don’t know him, Liam…He’s…He’s _different –,”_

“Stop defending him. Christ, I know _enough–,_ ”

Without any warning, a wave of rage crashes into the Omega…And Louis snaps. “Shut _up!_ Just don’t! You don’t decide anything! You’re _not_ my Alpha! And this–isn’t your _concern!_ I’m not seven anymore, Liam! I can’t see, but how moronic do I look?”

“I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!” the Alpha roars so abruptly that Louis shrinks away from the words. “I _loved_ you...And you were supposed to love me too…” 

 _Hurt;_ Unlike the physical pain of the headaches or the loss…This weaves through his belly, blurs his senses, in and out…in and out…A voice blares in his head: _run, run, run; danger._

Something inside Louis breaks and collapses. Something inside Louis becomes nothing but an infinite collection of dust. Maybe it’s his heart or his lungs or even his bones…And the Omega needs to _escape_.

Louis runs. In seconds, his short legs have carried him down the steps and out the front door–fully aware of the footsteps stalking after him. Compared to the words ringing in his head, _‘…in love…love me…’_ they’re faint.

Without any thoughts as to where he’s supposed to be going, Louis’s common sense dissipates, his legs refuse to _stop_ and the Omega feels stupid, so, _so,_ daft.

In the distance, someone shouts, “Louis!”

More voices:

_“What…to him?”  
“Please, Lou…c…b…ck!” _

Even the voices fade in and out like his senses until they’ve (too) disappeared altogether. His lungs ache with exertion, his feet pound on the concrete, his bag jostles, his head spins…but Louis doesn’t stop.

Until the reality creeps over him and his feet catch clumsily on some invisible object and the Omega falls, frantically scanning the darkness from something, _anything._

The scene flashes to life–scarily solid and unyielding.

_White. All white._

_Mummy carries him through the horribly white and horribly lifeless hospital halls, but the nice ladies (in white) give him big smiles and fond head shakes until he’s back inside his spacious (white) room with all sorts of wires and an uncomfortable bed. Louis really misses his room…But Mummy says they can’t leave here for a little while. So, Louis continues to miss his room._

_Since Mummy promises the doctors will help with his headaches, he manages not to fuss quite as much either. Often, he tries to keep from whining about the way his head hurts and how he wants to go home and play with Li-Li…Though, he really, really, really wants too._

_Mummy sets him on the bed with the awesome rails that remind him of a spaceship. For a while, the boy plays with his favourite Power Ranger, but quickly becomes bored again. “Can we go home?” he asks again, for the thousandth time._

_His head doesn’t hurt much anymore. The nice doctors give him medicine that tastes absolutely yucky. He hates taking it. But has to, otherwise Mummy gets very put off._

_When the boy looks up, Mummy is blurred, but Louis blinks a few times and it goes away. That happens a lot. It feels funny. Liam thinks he’s got superpowers…Louis secretly thinks so too. As she goes to answer, the nice Doctors steps inside._

_“Hello there, Louis! And how are you today?”_

_Louis tries not to pout…really, he does, but he can’t help that he’s sad. “Can’t I go home now?” he pleads, widening his eyes some, like he does to get his way with Mummy._

_“I’ll do my best to get you back home soon, sweetheart. Maybe even before Christmas!” That makes him smile. He’s been extra good this year so Santa will surely give him lots of toys and (maybe even) take away the head pains._

_Assured, Louis nods and goes back to his game while Mummy and the Doctor talk about weird stuff. The Doctor uses big, big words like ‘Pituitary tumor,’ and ‘neuro...something’ and then Mummy is crying again. The nice Doctor doesn’t seem so nice anymore._

_This causes the boy to cry. He doesn’t know why exactly. But his head begins to hurt again and his vision grows dimmer again._

_Turns out, Louis doesn’t get to home for Christmas._

Frantically, the Omega draws in a long, ragged breath, the pounding of his heart effectively negating the memory. There is absolutely no reason, he thinks angrily, to think about it. None. This–This has _nothing_ to do with that…That part of his life is _over_ (has been for _such_ a long time)–the past is in the past. And Louis refuses to acknowledge how untrue that suddenly seems.

For what feels like a long time, Louis remains on the ground–but the ringing his in ears subsides and is replaced by his phones insistent blares. Mechanically, the Omega shoves his hand in his bag and removes it; the phone promptly begins to inform him of ( _oh no)_ twenty missed called and texts from Liam, even more from his _Mum…_

Squeezing his eyes shut, the Omega stifles a sob and commands the phone to dial Alphaboy. Almost instantly a forceful curse comes through the line, “What’s…wrong?” but Louis doesn’t want to think or talk about it, doesn’t think it’s possible at this point.

Instead, Louis croaks in a voice that’s not at all his, “Hi.” Soundless tears skate down his flushed cheeks, though he doesn’t understand why; the pain is muted by the mental-chains that constrain his emotions.

 “Louis. Where’re you?”

Shrugging helplessly, Louis answers, “I don’t know, somewhere about, I suppose.” 

In the background an engine purrs to life. “I’m coming. Stay there, yeah?”

“ _Wait,”_ the words that follow rush from his tongue–sharp emotion pierces the numb–not dread, he’s still beyond that, but fear. “No, please, s-stay…Don’t _go,_ Harry, don’t –,”

“Right here, love,” the Alpha manages to soothe, despite the sharp undertone in his voice. “Talk to me?” And Louis wants to smile, because those words remind him of many nights ago, when Harry Styles wanted to know about _him_ and Louis nearly told–wanted to–but ended up telling that silly story.

 “What would you have me tell you?” The same words. A different time. Another memory.

Harry doesn’t seem to notice, which Louis might be a bit disappointed by if he could just reconnect the frayed ends of his emotions and replace the _numb._  “Tell me, what’ve you done today?”

“Nothing…” Surprisingly, the Alpha takes the let go just as tires screech from a nearby car coming to an abrupt halt. And Harry hangs up, leaving the Omega with two muted clicks and cold, cutting panic.

Desperate to control the sensation, Louis curls up on the ground, small and insignificant. Footsteps approach and though Louis doesn’t notice, his body stills with one last shiver.

“ _Louis?”_

**//**

                Harry isn’t exactly unfamiliar with pain. But hell does the Alpha do his best to avoid it. For ages, Harry has effectively constructed a mental-guard that filters out bullshit. Except, obviously, the buzz defies those bylaws, because one second the Alpha is listening to Zayn rant on about ‘fucking Alphas’ and how they’re all ‘shits conjured from the deepest pits of hell’ and _gladly_ agreeing (fuck if he disagrees with a moody, frustrated Omega), the next Harry is doubled over in absolute agony.

Within seconds, the heat starts up; poison bloodlust makes the Alphas canines sharper, his vision sharper, movements slower. His skin crawls–a cold sweat breaking over him. And all Harry can manage to think is: _Louis._

“ _Shit!_ Harry? What–?”

Evidentially, all the Alpha can even manage to say is, “Louis.” _Surprise, surprise._

Clutching his head, Harry fights the aggressive possession roiling below the pain, creating a noxious blend. “Phone…Get it.” _There,_ the Alpha thinks with great dignity, so I _can_ talk. 

Quicker than Harry has ever seen, Zayn grabs his phone and shoves it in the Alphas outstretched palm. Grinding his teeth, Harry makes his main focal point _standing_ (somehow, some time, his legs had given out) without passing out.

An eternal two minutes pass before Harry (finally, _finally)_ accomplishes that task–though just barely. And the Alpha doesn’t even get to relish in all his glory–the phones ringtone begins to chime. Just in time, Harry realises who is ringing.

Working on instinct, the Alpha answers, and the raw, violent hurt in his boy’s voice instantly dissolves his own trifling problems. Somehow, Harry ends up outside, conscious of the Omega hitching breaths and short responses.

Racing through the streets, Harry silently thanks whatever force out there for not making this a high-speed-police-chase because there isn’t a chance in Hell the Alpha is going to slow down for any law. All the while, the buzz guides him through a route that isn’t too far from the Omega’s house. Except, the Alpha ends up in the next flat-complex, outside an outdated flat. By now, it’s nearly noon, which makes it that much easier to spot his Omega. 

But even though the buzz knows, Harry doesn’t expect Louis to be sprawled out on some stranger’s lawn. Rage trickles through him. This is _dangerous;_ Louis should _never_ be alone. And damn it all, Louis should neverbe _crying_.

Slamming the brakes, the Alpha doesn’t bother to even stop the engine before tearing through the vacant lawn.

“Louis _?_ ” his voice sounds strange, high and…desperate.  There’s isn’t a response–Harry doesn’t think to expect one–but there isn’t even a movement or a breath and his Alpha is that much closer to committing murder. “Oh, love,” he breathes, slowly crouching, but never daring to touch this fragile, curled up boy.

Knowing he’s been seen, Louis moves, gradually unwinding from his fetal-position. “Hi…” 

“Hey,” is the Alpha automatic response as the relief pours over him in great bouts; there isn’t any physical damage. But that is the least of his problems.

With a shaky exhale, Louis opens his eyes; those eyes are glazed over like newly cut glass and…that’s the pain–the only hurt that Harry Styles can’t handle.

One way or another Louis ends up in his lap, head on his shoulder, uneven breaths over his throat. And Harry could never bear to let him go. Instead, the Alpha accepts the pain, sighs as it sinks into his bones and his soul and tries to make him understand this _link_ between them. There is only one other link Harry knows, the mating-link…which isn’t possible. Instantly, the Alpha wants to rule that out because _no–_ but…

Tensing, Harry struggles to contain his anger, but his voice comes shrewdly even so, “How old are you, Louis?”

“’m sixteen,” the other mumbles. Immediately, the anger drains from his body–not bonded then. “Why?”

Harry shakes his head. “No reason.” Then, as to distract the Omega, “You know, we’re very much trespassing right now.”

With a tiny sigh, Louis murmurs, “We should go…”

“We should.” Still, neither of them moves.

 “Like now…” it’s reluctant though. And well…

“I’m rather content here. I’m not moving,” the Alpha declares, trapping the boy in his arms and shutting his eyes.

Reality doesn’t exist beyond Louis Tomlinson and _his_ wants. All else be damned.

**//**

                For a while Harry holds Louis in his arms; needing to know the boy is _okay,_ needing to feel him close and be _sure,_ unhealthy as it sounds. There’s a crystalline silence as the Alpha memorizes the hollows and curves of Louis’s delicate body with his hands. And the Alpha has a hunch that Louis Tomlinson was _his_ in all the lives beyond this one because they align like a key in a lock and their bodies must have been fitted for each other so many fucking ages ago.

Suddenly, it’s that fucking simple: there isn’t anything beyond Louis Tomlinson in any life of his.

But, nothing lasts forever, especially not in this life. Nearby, a car comes to halt, a door slams, and footsteps rush in their direction. The hushed amazement falters and dissolves into nothingness as the Alpha goes into defense.

Snarling, Harry tightens his hold and turns his head in the direction of the advancer, baring his teeth. He’s never been the aggressor (unless provoked) but the ominous need to protect this hurting boy consumes him.

“Louis?” a woman shrills–instantly becoming an annoyance (Louis flinches). Then, Jay’s face comes into view. “Oh, God, is he alright?”

Harry wants to ignore the older Omega, but really, that isn’t possible. Not with Louis’s Mum. “He’s fine,” the Alpha answers flatly.

She looks like she’s going to say more, but discreetly, Harry shakes his head, mouthing, ‘ _later’_ and (thankfully) she seems to understand because she nods once.

“We’ll follow in my car,” the Alpha decides, sure to leave the Alpha timbre out of that statement.

With a defeated look, Jay starts in the direction of her car. When her footsteps are no longer audible (to Louis’s ears, at least), the boy shakes his head, “Don’t wanna go, Haz. Don’t make me…”

The vulnerability, the _plea_ in the boy’s voice lashes viciously at Harry’s state-of-mind, as it goes from slightly mad to psychotic sociopath in seconds. There isn’t anything the Alpha wouldn’t do for this boy…but perhaps the Omega could be persuaded.

“Why not?” he murmurs, tracing his spine. “We can’t stay here forever, filthy boy. You’ve got to bathe _sometime._ ”

Louis giggles, then sighs, “Just don’t want to have to talk about it…Don’t wanna be…alone.”

“You won’t ever have to be,” he promises, his tone becoming rough and authoritative, sealing the words-with-an-Alpha’s-kiss, so to say.

Nodding, the Omega goes to stand but Harry isn’t having it. Effortlessly, the Alpha grabs Louis around the waist and under his thighs. Ignoring the slightly grieved look on his delicate features.

“I’m okay to walk…” Without answering, the Alpha quickens his pace, aware that Louis is capable of walking...Even more painfully aware that it’s him who isn’t capable of letting go.

Once Louis is seated, Harry makes quick work of tugging his blazer off and placing it in the boy’s lap (mentally kicking himself for not remembering the weather isn’t exactly _warm_ any longer). Louis goes to question because Louis _is_ Louis and notoriously clueless to an Alphas courtship when Harry says, “I don’t want you catching a cold or something.”

“Not quite that delicate,” Louis mutters, nonetheless, he pushes his arms through the too-long sleeves. _Christ,_ one day the sight ofLouis in his clothes might just kill him.

“Aren’t you?” he contradicts lightly. There isn’t an answer.

Through the ride, Louis remains quiet, clutching his chest in that disturbing way. Though the meaning isn’t lost to him, Harry still _knows_ what the Omega feels; the icy indifference, the _loss._ Yet there is no means to help because the boy won’t even allow it.

They arrive, and stepping behind Jay, the Alpha twines their fingers, tugging a nervous-Louis into the house. Inside it’s warm, and suspiciously quiet. But the silence only lasts seconds before Daisy pokes her head around an open doorway, hissing, “They’re back! Go, go,” low enough that the other two don’t catch it.

With an oddly curious look, Daisy scurries out of sight (again before Jay even finishes removing her coat). Interested, Harry wanders over to the doorway and peers inside to find four pairs of eyes staring back at him from their seats at the table. Absently, Harry notices the food around them looks as if it has the potential to eat away at their stomachs–to lightly put it.

His appetite dissipates, but warmth fills him when he spots the makeshift card, five stick-figures drawn, written beneath in a lopsided sprawl, ‘ _Love u Boo-Bear!’_

Louis can’t see it, but Harry will undoubtedly tell. Jay begins to lead Louis upstairs when Daisy shoots passed him and attaches to Louis’s leg, resembling a little monkey. “Don't go again, Boo,” she snivels, and the boy sighs, crouching and pulling the little girl with huge blue eyes into an embrace. “Never ever,” he breathes fiercely.

Harry looks away, refusing to invade on the moment that isn’t _his_ to witness. Only Jay doesn’t seem to care–these are her children after all. “Alright, Phoebe, Lou needs to rest.” _Phoebe?_

Before the Alpha can ask, Louis mutters, “I’m fine, Mum. I don’t need to be taken care of.”

Jay shoots him a helpless look. “Right, right,” the Alpha dodges easily. “Off to bed, Lou,” he goes on to say, scooping the unsuspecting Omega up. Louis wiggles free, not appreciating being carried, but then the boy sways and Harry grabs his waist firmly.

“Whoa there, love, take it easy,” the Alpha murmurs softly, lifting him again. This time Louis doesn’t bother to object, seemingly in a daze. Going to turn for the stairs, Harry catches sight of Daisy…and Phoebe. The more daring of the two–probably Daisy–grins evilly, before the other elbows her. Sooner than the Alpha can react, the two exchange a brief look and scamper off.

Stranger things have happened, he supposes.

Upstairs, Harry doesn’t have to ask where Louis’s room is, his scent practically oozes from the last door to the left. And the Alpha attempts to keep a level-head, because the Omega looks knackered, really, but inside the room, the scent beckons and calls to him and _damn it, this isn’t_ right.

Gently, the Alpha rolls the boy into his bed, then tries to escape the not-so-safe-haven.  “Not going to sleep if you’re not here,” a small voice slurs defiantly.

Harry’s eyebrows pull together and his lungs begin to ache with need for air. “Oh…?”

“Nope,” Louis mumbles, sitting up in attempt to prove that he won’t (even as his eyelids droop).

Harry gives–because when doesn’t he? Honestly. With a sharp inhale, the Alpha sits on the edge of the mattress, catching Jay’s slightly stunned expression.

“Okay, Lou, okay,” Harry mutters, “Don’t need any physical demonstrations.”

With a small nod, the boy tugs on Harry’s shirt so that the older is flattened on the mattress and Louis is curled up on his torso, yawning like a small kitten.  Louis doesn’t seem to notice how tense the Alpha is beneath him as he mumbles, “Now…” his eyes slide shut. “Be a good pillow and don’t move.”

Carefully, Harry runs his hand down the boy’s side, calming under Louis’s reassuring weight.

Hours or minutes or seconds pass before the Alpha looks up again, finding that Jay has disappeared and the door is shut. Allowing himself to inhale through his nose, Harry hisses as the scent intoxicates his mind.

To keyed up to sleep, the Alpha traces the contours of the younger boy’s face; his high, sharp cheekbones, long lashes, strong jawline, delicate nose and thin, pink lips. All the while, his bones soak up the scent, and Harry silently vows to make it his mission to scent Louis so the world knows who the young boy belongs too.

A sharp sound pierces the silence and Harry curses under his breath, cautiously shifting Louis so that he can retrieve his phone from his pocket. “Busy,” the Alpha mutters into the line.

“You didn’t forget did you? It’s nearly seven!”

Realisation comes over him. Harry groans. “That’s _tonight?”_

“You _forgot!_ Styles, this is important. You can’t just not show! We’re so–,”

“I know,” the Alpha interrupts, wincing when Louis tosses. “I know. Shit. Just…give me ten minutes. I’ll be there.”

“Ten minutes. Otherwise, we’re starting without you,” the other threatens and there’s a chorus of agreement in the background and the Alpha nods curtly. Hanging up, Harry eases out of Louis’s bed.

Mercifully, the boy remains asleep. Leaning, the Alpha plants a swift kiss on his forehead before starting for the door. Then, “Where’re you goin’?”

_Caught._

Slowly, Harry pivots, finding that Louis’s eyes are still shut–the sight is so welcoming, Louis looks warm and sweet and Harry really wants to be immersed by him again.

Except, right now, that’s impossible; Harry can’t miss this.

“There’s something I need to do. But I’ll see you tomorrow. And we’ll talk.”

The Omega hums vaguely. “'Kay. G’night Haz.”

“Sweet dreams, little one.”

Without another word, the Alpha leaves, ends up at a familiar building, filled with familiar faces and Harry figures this is his second option.

Were all else to go to Hell, the Alpha finds he’ll always have a home here.

**//**

Louis can’t sleep. Harry isn’t here to keep the insistent thoughts from resurfacing. So, the Omega sighs and tries to keep it together; for his Mum and the girls.

Venturing downstairs, Louis aimlessly ambles through the house until his hands come into contact with his bag on the sofa. Snagging his mobile, the Omega pads back into his bedroom again, plopping on the bed and groaning into the pillow before flipping onto his back.  Exhaustion tugs at him, but Louis doesn’t notice because Niall answers.

“Lou, mate, it’s been _ages!”_ Niall exclaims, though it’s only been two days since Louis last seen him. Niall doesn’t keep time like many.

“Niall,” the boy starts timidly. “Can I ask you something?”

The Irish Omega doesn’t miss a beat. “Course, what it is?”

Louis takes a deep breath, preparing for the worst. “Be honest. When you first saw Harry Styles...what’d you think of him?”

“Thought he was mated,” Niall answers, like it’s the most obvious answer.

“What?!” Louis splutters, a bit thrown off. That was not at all what the Omega expected.

“Ya know,” the other continues casually. “Mated, bonded, bite, knot, ta-da!”

At the words, a flush spreads over the Omega’s cheeks. “I know _that!_ But…like, why?”

This time, Niall pauses. “That’s not really my place to–,”

“Ni, _please,_ I-I need to know.”

“Shit, I dunno, Lou. I’d see ‘im at parties or whatever. Like, Harry could be talkin’ to someone when Zayn showed up. And, it was just odd, how Harry’d stick to his side the rest of the night, wouldn’t even look at anyone else. They were always together so…Just assumed, y’know.”

_Oh?  
Oh…_

Swallowing, Louis feels something thick and unnerving unfold in his belly. The idea of Harry and Zayn prods at him.

“Liam…” he blurts to keep his mind from going _there_ , “Liam doesn’t approve…”

Niall sighs knowingly. “Ah. So…you know, then?”

“Yeah…” the Omega breathes, angry and hurt and betrayed and _just._

“Louis,” Niall says seriously, which is sort of a shock as Niall Horan is seldom serious. “Listen to me. Liam loves you. He does. But, that doesn’t mean you should feel obligated to feel the same way. It’s always your choice. No matter who or what you want, Liam and I will support you. Fuck, if you happened to fall in love with a Chimpanzee, though that’d be fuckin’ weird, we’ll fucking smile about it. Because that’s what best mates are for…So, yeah, there, enough serious from me.”

Louis giggles at that, “Not really interested in bestiality, Ireland...”

“Good, ‘cause I doubt any animals prick would do the trick when–”

“Oh, God! You are _such_ a pervert!” Louis whisper-shouts in mock disgust.

Barking laughter, the Irish lad continues undeterred, “Damn right. Aye, we should get together tomorrow? After school. That coffee-shop downtown. Bring Harry and Zayn; I’ll drag Liam with Josh?”

The Omega tries not to cringe at the thought. “Tomorrow then. I’ll tell Harry. See you in the morning.”

Oblivious to Louis’s inner-turmoil, Niall laughs and hangs up.  

**//**

That night, Harry doesn’t go home. Instead, the Alpha ends up at Zayn’s again. Somehow, the two find themselves out back, leaning against the side of the house, staring into the darkness as they pass a joint.

For a while, Harry remains lost in the constellations, imagining the stars actually create images worth gazing at, trying to imagine Wittgenstein wasn’t just doped up or insane (as most speculate). But the Alpha has never been impressed by the stars, never found the breathtaking beauty in them, never found the _meaning._ Because, what meaning could there be in (seemingly) randomly placed fireballs of gas?

Without warning, Zayn knocks their shoulders, voice quiet in the darkness. “Did well tonight.”

Harry scoffs. “Doesn’t feel like enough, though.”

“When does it ever?” the other chuckles drily.

Harry doesn’t answer. Instead, the Alpha goes back to searching for hidden figures.

And that night, neither Alpha nor Omega sleeps. But that doesn’t matter, the stars quick float and disappear before Harry wishes he could meet them. _Typical._

Soon, the joint burns out, and sunlight begins to replace the darkness. Beside him, Zayn yawns. “Titanic material yet?”

“Close, but not quite.” The Omega raises a dark eyebrow in question. Harry elaborates, “We’re missing the soundtrack.”

Zayn blinks once, then whispers, “Don’t let go, Jack.”

Almost instantly, the atmosphere lightens, their eyes meet and they laugh like idiots (because they _are_ idiots and that’s swell).

Without going inside, Harry and Zayn decide to go to his before school starts (which they’ll probably hear shit from Patricia about later) It’s quiet as the two head upstairs, throwing each other towels before heading in opposite directions. Since Zayn calls his bath, Harry goes to the guest and once he’s finished the Alpha changes (ditching a shirt) and waits for the Omega to come inside. As the high begins to wane, his skin begins to buzz again and he groans, connecting his music and letting the heavy beat of some song Zayn must’ve added to his playlist pound and echo off the walls.

A while later, the Omega comes back, dressed in a black tee and ripped jeans, his hair styled perfectly (that must’ve taken _at least_ twenty minutes). Zayn stops the music mid-way and Harry grimaces, though the other only murmurs, “We should get another tattoo.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Why? Come up with another shit idea?”

Zayn eyes darken as he glares. “Actually, thought these would be meaningful. Unless you’d rather have ‘whipped’ on your forehead.”

“The latter sounds more me, I think,” the Alpha grins lazily. “Cue the music, slave.”

“How ‘bout you eat this, fucker,” the other hisses, before shucking a shirt at him. Harry catches it in one hand, grinning in triumph when a shoe crashes into his face and he gives a _what-the-fuck_ look to which Zayn grins sweetly, “Teach you to be _such_ an arrogant twat.”

Yeah, sometimes Harry needs to be reminded (note the sarcasm). “If I wasn’t so bloody tired I’d mess up your hair,” the Alpha remarks, slightly pleased by Zayn’s reaction.

The Omega storms out.

Really, the Alpha can’t be bothered to chase him down, because the tired sinks into his bones and oblivion meets him with sleepy blue eyes and Chris Martin’s voice.

**//**

When Harry wakes up again, the manor is still quiet and the Alpha almost wonders where Zayn’s at–then the Omega stalks into the room. _Speak of the Devil._

“Good, you’re up,” the other comments. “It’s nearly seven; I gather your Omega is waiting on you.”

Sitting up, the Alpha groans, shaking his hair out of his eyes and standing, “You’ve been up all this time?”

“Slept a bit. I’m leaving though. Asked one of those stuffy butlers to give me a lift.”

“Wait,” Harry says. “Z, you don’t have to–,”

“Harry,” the Omega smiles softly. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me. Go to Louis. I’ll see you in class, yeah?”

“Yeah,” the Alpha nods, waving the other off.

Once the Omega has left, Harry brushes his teeth, showers and straightens up his hair so he doesn’t look a complete mess. Then without a backwards glance for his audience, the Alpha makes his way out.

By the gates, Louis waits, and the Alpha saunters over to him, touching the back of his hand in question. “Good morning,” Louis breathes, his smile bright, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Sleep well?”

“You left,” the boy shrugs–confusing the Alpha, whose eyebrows furrow at the topic-change.

“That I did,” Harry agrees, thoughts elsewhere. Something is bothering him, the Alpha decides, glancing at the smaller boy, whose emotions are in an unattainable tangle (sort f like earbuds; outrageously annoying, but easily straightened out again).

Apparently, the Alpha will have to crush this elephant before it gets any larger. “There something you wanted to ask, Lou?”

Louis blinks. His expression shifts from that of annoyance, to frustration, until finally settling on dread. “Where’d you run off to last night?”

“Nowhere of extreme significance.” Harry doesn’t mean to lie, but by now, the Alpha is accustomed to his privacy. But shit, Harry immediately regrets the words, because the Omega turns to the window, covering his expression.

“It’s bad,” Louis guesses. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?” And the boy beings to panic, his heart accelerating as his mind whirls to faraway places that Harry never wants him to come into contact with. Damn it, Louis shouldn’t fret over _him_ ; that’s not his role in this, never should have to be.

“Calm down, Louis,” Harry mutters. “You’re being silly.”

“Am I? Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Because there’s nothing to tell. You’re blowing this wildly out of proportion.”

Abruptly, Louis faces him again, blurting, “ _DoyoufindZaynattractive?”_

“Didn’t catch that,” the Alpha murmurs, though he obviously _did,_ but Hell does he need a sec. (or eternity) to gather his wits.

“What does…Is Zayn…Are you…attracted to him?” the other persists, eyes cast down (lashes creating shadows) and it’s certainly _unexpected._

“Louis, Zayn…It isn’t like that between us.” _Never could be…I only burn for you, my clueless-little-Omega…_ “You’re...You’re–,” Harry doesn’t know what to say; another first.

“Tell me something–what does Zayn look like?” Jesus.

“Just like any Omega–lean, easy-on-the-eyes,” he answers (perhaps a bit too) quickly.

Louis shakes his head. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” And understanding falls over him at the petulant tone.

Parking, the Alpha unbuckles and undoes Louis’s own seatbelt before shifting the boy into his lap. Louis gasps in surprise but doesn’t struggle; rather the smaller boy curls up, hiding his face in Harry’s shirt.

“You know what, though?”

The Omega shakes his head and Harry chuckles, but runs his fingers through those silky chestnut strands. “Mmm. I think you’re my touchstone…” _The only one to touch my heart…_ “The only one to render me so undone…” he breathes thoughtfully into the Omega’s hair.

Louis melts against him–breathing quietly while Harry mules over his silence until at last the boy decides, “I reckon that’s okay, then.”

“Hmm,” the Alpha whispers against his cheek, smirking. “You’re quite adorable when you’re jealous. I’m surprisingly pleased.”

**//**

Louis scowls, burrowing his face in Harry’s shoulder. His cheeks burn; but the horrible weight has been lifted, and the Alpha’s words have replaced Liam’s. And Louis is _floating_ passed Cloud-Nine; never wants to leave the shelter Harry’s arms provide, the solace his presence brings, the craze that thick, persuasive scent allows.

But, _no,_ the Omega will not be one of those blinded-by-love cases. “We’re going to be late.”

Harry freezes, then opens the door and slides Louis to his feet.

“Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he mutters, voice clipped, almost bitter.

Louis bites his lip, huddling in the oversized blazer, determined to remain steady. Even so, the boy is unsettled by how empty he suddenly feels inside, so busies himself by trying to identify that delicious scent. It doesn’t smell like cologne; it’s too male, too _overwhelming._

Wrapping an arm around Louis’s waist, the Alpha pulls him through the crowded halls.

On the way, Louis remembers, “ _Oh_. Would you and Zayn join us at a coffee-shop downtown?”

Harry coughs, slowing his pace. “Us?”

“Erm…Yeah, Niall, Josh, Liam and I…?”

“Would that be such a good idea, Lou? You should spend time–,”

Louis stops. Yes, right there in the middle of the hall, with tons of students (maybe even a few teachers) watching. But in that moment, those eyes don’t matter, because Louis can’t get the words out–and well, Mum always said, actions speak louder than words, right?

Instinctively, unthinkingly, the Omega throws his slim arms around Harry’s waist, resting his head on the Alpha’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Squeezing his eyes shut, the Omega breathes, voice wavering and weak, “Please? Please come. You…I want you there.”

So quickly that Louis misses the movement, Harry leans in, face only a few inches from his. Louis is unable to move, heart fluttering, blood racing, head spinning as something _hot_ crackles between them

“To make you happy,” he whispers intently, lips so achingly close. “I’d do _anything_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts?
> 
> Where do you guys think Harry went?  
> How do you want the coffeeshop meet to go?
> 
> I'd love to hear ! :)  
> -.xx


	11. Part Eleven;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, um, hullo :3
> 
> Here we are, once again, another update (tried to be hasty about it!)
> 
> Thank you all for the support and love, it's truly such a motivator and...and I JUST LOVE IT.
> 
> Tell me how it goes!;x

Curled up, in the farthest corner of his wardrobe, Louis shoves his face into some nameless article of clothing, moaning as the frustration gnaws at him. The useless articles of clothing piled around him only work to make the situation that much more wretched. Of course there are a myriad of outfits the Omega could wear, but without eyes Louis can’t really decide what would look best and he is not going to ask one of the girls (least he risk going out dressed as a sparkly princess)

At the thought, the blood leaves his face. Surely Harry Styles would realise what an absolute mess he is then.

“Lou, the hell is taking–,” Niall calls, bursting into the compact space. “Christ, Louis, is that _you?_ ”

“No,” the Omega grumbles. “Louis died–pay your respects to the dead and go away.”

Giggling–the thought must thoroughly amuse him–the Irish Omega shoves through the heaps of clothing and plops down beside him. “What’s the matter, little guy?”

“Oh my God,” Louis shrieks. “Would everyone stop calling me that? I’m not even little, I’m average!”

“You keep telling yourself that, bud.”

“You are so annoying. Why are we even friends?”

“ _Best_ friends,” the other corrects. “And because someone has to tell Liam when to piss off.”

Even though the Omega knows it’s wrong to snap at Niall (the Irish lad is the only one who might have some semblance of understand) the words still form on his tongue, bitter and distraught, “Speaking of,” Louis begins, “Aren’t you and Josh supposed to be going over to his soon?”

“We couldn’t very well go with you here, hiding in the wardrobe, now could we?” Niall murmurs, running a soothing hand through his unruly hair.

“’m not hiding,” Louis protests feebly. “I’m…searching.”

There’s a beat of silence before Niall sighs in mock exasperation. “Is _that_ what’s going on? Babe, why didn’t you just ask me? You know I wouldn’t have minded!” I know, the Omega thinks guiltily, but it would be nice to be less-than-helpless, just once.

Instead, Louis shakes his head–squeezing his eyes against traitor tears. Without noticing, Niall begins to scavenge through his clothing.

“It’s a disaster in here,” Niall comments absently. “Your Mum is going to be proper fuming when she sees this.”

Groaning miserably, the Omega tosses another article of clothing in the other’s direction. “Can we hasten this up? At this rate, we’re going to be late.”

“Louis,” Niall tuts knowingly, “There is such thing as being fashionably late. Read up on it some time.” If only.

Sensitive as Louis feels in this instant, the words strike home–and his Omega wants to weeps at the injustice, because that part of him wants to be _wanted,_ wants to be nothing less than perfect for his Alpha and it’s not even _possible._

Enough, Louis thinks furiously, then, in attempts to keep from upsetting Niall–the Irish Omega always suffers the pain of others and Louis doesn’t ever want to be the cause of bright, bubbly, beautifully ignorant Niall’s distress–chews on his lip to remain silent.

“Aha!” the Irish lad shouts in triumph. “Perfect. Come, let’s work the magic.” Oh, _joy._

Wordlessly, Louis stands and let’s Niall drag him into the bathroom and help him into the chosen clothing. Once the torture is over, Niall sighs happily at his work while the Omega squirms, tugging nervously at the skin-tight material of his trousers.

Before the Omega can become any more self-conscious, Niall begins to gush, complimenting him until Louis’s face is in flames and the Omega is begging him to quit. Over the years, compliments have become quite difficult to believe…especially since Louis can’t confirm them for himself.

Still, the gesture is sweet and so reassuring that Louis pulls Niall into an embrace. It’s not at all like being wrapped up in an Alpha’s arms, but gratifying in a warm, understanding way all the same.  

“We should go. Josh is chatting up the girls and honest to God I’m becoming quite a jealous Omega,” Niall whispers dubiously.

Feeling a thousand times lighter, Louis grins, allowing the Irish Omega to lead him out.

_-o-_

With the words _“Liam”_ and “ _together”_ Niall ruins everything in the mere ten minutes they’ve left Louis’s flat (it’d been absurdly difficult to separate the girls–who’ve decided Josh is _“absolutely perfect”,_ and the most _“handsome prince”,_ which both disturbed and ruined the aspects of his older brother status). Finally, after Josh promised to take the girls out for ice-cream, the trio managed to escape–but only _just._

Now, Louis crosses his arms defensively. “No. Nope. I am _not_ going. Not me. Not _Louis.”_

“First, don’t talk in third-person, it’s creepy,” Niall shudders–sounding slightly disgusted. “Second, enough dramatics, it’s useless, you’re not getting out of this.”  

“That’s what _you_ think,” Louis murmurs, a bit smug as he pulls his mobile from his pocket, waving it in triumph. “I’m not _that_ helpless. Now, I’m just going to phone–,”

Someone snatches the phone right out of his unsuspecting grip. “Here we are. Hide this, Ni,” Josh murmurs lightly.

For a brief moment Louis is still, mouth gaping in astonishment. Then, the Omega screeches, “ _What?_ You two are _unbelievably_ shameless! Stealing a blind boy’s only _hope,_ what is _wrong_ with you two?”

Ignoring him, Niall snickers, “Brilliant. Absolutely brill! We should be dubbed _masterminds,_ I swear!” 

Refusing to budge, Louis growls (with as much steel possible–which, by estimate, isn’t _enough_ ), “This isn’t _funny._ Give it back!”

“Louis,” Niall replies with a patient sigh–much like he’s speaking to a sulking child.

“No. Don’t even try it. Leave me alone. I want Harry,” he demands, voice raising a few decibels in stress.

“Don’t be that way, Louis,” Josh tries. “Niall’s right. This needs to stop. It’s gone on too long now.” And Louis wants to call him a liar, to remind the two that this isn’t their business, to make it clear that it doesn’t even _matter._ Except, the Omega can’t–he _can’t,_ because Josh isn’t lying, it _is_ their business, and God, it _matters._

Louis will _not_ be the dishonest one–will not go against his very own _morals._ So, too add to the effect, the Omega carefully keeps his face blank before murmuring, “Of course _you’d_ take Niall’s side. Therefore, your opinion is invalid.” 

“I think,” Josh says slowly–hope blossoms in Louis’s chest only to be razed by the Alpha’s next words, “He’s in denial.”

“Hmm,” the Irish Omega ponders. “Maybe so. I dunno it’s rather–,”

“Reminder,” the Omega interrupts. “I’m _right_ here! And I’m certainly _not_ in denial either, sheesh.” Annnnd, yes, there goes the pretense. So much for indifferent, Tomlinson, _really._

“That’s what someone in denial would say,” Josh comments matter-of-factly.

“Seriously? I–,”

“You’re right, Josh. We shouldn’t trust him,” Niall declares, mimicking an American accent. “According to my diagnosis, Louis Tomlinson, you are indeed–,”

“This entire conversation is completely ridiculous,” Louis snaps between gritted teeth.

“With that attitude you’re going to be walking to Liam’s,” Niall says.

“I’m not going to Liam’s at all,” the Omega replies stubbornly.

“Why are you being so difficult? Louis, we’re not asking you to kill a dove! All we want is–,”

“And what about _my_ wants?”

“You want this too, Lou,” the Irish lad tells him softly. “You’re scared, is all.”

“You don’t know what I’m feeling! I’m…I am _fine,”_ Louis’s voice breaks as the anger disguising the fear begins to falter under the constant pushing and prodding. 

“It’s okay to be afraid, Louis,” Josh comforts from beside Niall. “You’re not alone. You have us…”

“Yeah, boo,” the other Omega agrees, “We’re in this together, remember? Now, come on, do this for us. For _Liam_.”

With a grimace, Louis sticks out his tongue, _but_ manages to nod, realising these two are invincible. Might as _well_ give.

 In triumph, Niall jumps up and down, “It’ll all work out, Lou! Promise!”

“Yeah,” Josh concurs enthusiastically. “And if anything, we can always hide the body in the backseat!”

At that, Louis can’t help but smile (a small, _‘I worry about you’_ smile, but a smile all the same). “I hate you guys.”

“You really love us,” Niall reminds and at the moment Louis isn’t quite so sure (but, decides, when it’s all said and done, yeah, he really, really does).

_-o-_

                The world _must_ be working against him, Louis decides as Niall–the traitor–hauls him up to Liam’s room.  After an endless fifteen minutes of arguing and encouraging words, Louis finally caved –which the Omega now regrets _deep,_ so very deep, in his soul. Again, the Omega finds himself wishing he’d have let Harry come for him.

But _no,_ Niall had to _insist_ and really, does the Irish lad get some sort of sick pleasure, watching Louis lose his mind?

Frowning, the Omega focuses on the hollow sensation that’s taken refuge in his chest, but quickly rights himself, because his attention is needed elsewhere.

Josh–ever-so-protective of Niall–remains ahead of the Irish lad, though Niall assured him it was unnecessary, (Liam would never intentionally hurt either of them) the older Alpha refused to allow him upstairs without the “proper” security. And well, Niall is a good Omega and realises when it’s time to obey.

So, when Niall carelessly shoves Liam’s bedroom door open, Josh snags his Omega’s wrists and shields Niall (and Louis, who’s caught in Niall’s hold) with his body. Then, the Alpha whispers something into Niall’s ear–having overheard their…conversations before; Louis has learnt to ignore the soon-to-be-mated couple to the best of his ability.

“Ni? What are…What the hell are you all doing here?”

In response, Josh growls, “No offense, mate, but my Omega stays outside with me.” And even Niall remains uncharacteristically quiet, probably more affected by the sheer authority in the older Alpha’s voice than Louis.

“Whatever,” Liam snaps back–equally as defensive. “There’s no reason for–,” okay, Louis thinks, this has gone on long enough.

“Liam,” the Omega interjects quietly, relieved when the Alpha goes silent, listening. “I think…We need to talk. Please?”

Exhaling, Liam mutters, “Yeah. Alright. Sure.”

“Are you sure, Lou? I mean–,” Josh begins to protest, but Louis shakes his head, smiling gratefully at the other Alpha’s concern.

As the Omega goes to assure the two, Niall leaps forward and kisses his cheek, before announcing, “Come on, Josh. Let’s wait downstairs.”

With a fond smile, Louis marches into Liam’s room with about as much certainty as possible. Behind him, the door falls shut with a foretelling _click._

_-o-_

At first, it’s possibly tenser than ever before, but gradually, Liam relaxes, voicing his thoughts without delay. Maybe, Louis decides, he’s the one who couldn’t face this all along, because Liam is confessing what’s been there, right in front of him, all this time.

And with each word, Louis feels his heart break a little more…because Liam, sweet, kind, _proper,_ Liam loves _him._ In the way an Alpha only loves an Omega and it isn’t _right._ It’s not right because Louis can’t return the feelings, not now…

Not ever, the Omega thinks, tears brimming in his eyes (though Louis does his best to keep it hidden, knowing these tears are unwarranted). “Liam, please, d-don’t say that…” _Not now…_

“Why?” the Alpha demands. “I’ve held it in long enough.”

Reacting to an Alpha’s distress, Louis dares to lean into Liam’s side, used to being so close, even now. Sniveling into his sleeve, the Omega breathes, “I wish I could return these feelings...A-And I wish I could love you how you deserve. But…Liam, we…we’re not… _meant._ T-The bond isn’t _there._ ”

“I know,” somehow the Alpha’s voice cracks and the Omega wants to cry for him. “It’s…Just…”

“I know,” Louis croaks, “I’m so, so sorry…”

Arms circle his waist and the Omega sinks gladly into the embrace–willing his Omega to _react…_ willing himself to feel _something._ But, nothing happens–and with a guilty sigh, Louis wishes it were Harry who was holding him, whose scent was invading his senses.

“Don’t be,” Liam murmurs softly. “I’ve been a right arse, haven’t I? I’m the one who should be sorry…And, it’s…I suppose I’ve always _known_ we weren’t meant…but I wanted it. I wanted it so damn bad…”

Not knowing what to say, Louis stays quiet, listening openly.

“But, Lou,” the Alpha continues, pulling back. “I’m trying, alright? I’m going to straighten up and let you go…Because you deserve to be loved, proper. And I…I can see that Harry is…going to give that to you.”

“Li,” Louis starts seriously. “You have _always_ loved me proper. Just…not in the manner I’ve needed from you.”

“I’m going to try to stop being in love with you Louis Tomlinson,” the Alpha announces with emotion. “It won’t be easy…but I’m trying, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Louis nods, then blurts, “But…You still love me now, don’t you? Just as _Louis?”_

“Of course, silly,” Liam assures, with a cautious laugh. “You’ve always been my favourite. Just don’t tell Niall.”

Assured and grinning evilly, Louis says, “No promises,” before darting for the door and promptly screaming, “NIALL!”

_-o-_

Too long. It’s been an hour too-fucking-long. Growling, the Alpha paces, trying to remain in control, trying to _remember_ that Louis isn’t hurting; Louis is _safe_ (or as safe as his Omega can be without him). But the knowledge does nothing to ease the growing hostility trapped in his chest, the edges severing his self-control.

For once, Harry agrees with his Alpha–because _fuck_ Zayn’s opinion, the Omega doesn’t have the capacity to understand the depth of an Alpha’s natural instinct to _shield_ his Omega from even the slightest of threats.

“I’m leaving,” the words are a feral growl. “I am going to–,”

“Styles!” an unrecognisable Irish accent calls from across the street.

Impulsively, his head whips around and his eyes instantly find his Omega, sandwiched between Niall and Liam– _fuck no._ In seconds, the vortex of emotion ferments through his body, urging his Alpha into a frenzy of bloodlust. Struggling against it, the Alpha rolls his shoulders, grinding his teeth and forcing his eyes shut.

Without his noticing, the group crosses the street to meet them. It’s too sudden–his efforts dissipate into nonexistence.

Thoughts crazed, Harry only registers the _two_ Alphas within touching distance of his Omega and the dangerous emotion morphs possessively. It’s unacceptable–because _fuck,_ this boy is _his,_ and should _never_ be close to another Alpha unless Harry is there to ensure the others remain in line.

Knowing this, the Alpha grips the boy’s thin wrist in two fingers, tugging so that Louis ends up plastered to his side. Besides the towns steady activity, it’s _very_ quiet, but at this point, Harry is preoccupied with studying his Omega until its definite not one hair on his pretty little head is out of place.

Under his gaze, Louis squirms, reacting to the intensity of his stare, the pheromones coursing through him. His scent heightens, nearly masking Louis’s and the Alpha almost thinks it’s a shame. Almost, but not quite.

“Do you realise how absolutely mad you make me?” he asks, seething as his body crowds the smaller boy’s, his scent clinging to the other.

“I-I don’t u-understand,” the Omega stutters breathily, eyelashes fluttering, lips parted. Like this, the Alpha can’t ignore how beautiful the Omega looks–docile and tiny.

“Perhaps a lesson is in order,” Harry suggests languidly against the soft skin of his cheek. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? You’d enjoy being bent over–?”

“ _Ahem,”_ someone hems pointedly and the Alpha shoots the group–who are all shuffling, Niall giggling as the unknown Alpha watches fondly, Liam focused on his shoe skidding back and forth on the pavement, then there’s Zayn who looks thoroughly unimpressed–a murderous glare.

“Ahem _what?”_

Raising a dark eyebrow, the Omega says, “Your arrogance is making me thirsty. Can you manage to keep your Alpha in check or should we declare you unfit-for-society?”

Someone chokes, someone gasps (Louis, he’s sure) and someone might even laugh (Niall–judging by the accent then disapproving _hush_ from the other Alpha) but Harry smiles a little, familiar with Zayn’s persona–the Omega may be quiet and brooding, but he’s still an Omega, who craves an Alpha that will dote on him and even punish him (much like Harry is promising to do to Louis–who is now frightened, unaware that punishments aren’t always _bad)._

“Right. Shit. Sorry,” Harry mutters, looking each Alpha and Omega in the eye, even Liam–who looks vaguely surprised. “I’d like a word with Louis. If that’s okay with you, Lou?”

Looking unsure, Louis bites his lip, but nonetheless nods. Rather (impressive) quickly, everyone disappears into the café and–well, out of sight, out of mind is fitting enough.

“I’m sorry,” Harry blurts, shoving a hand through his hair roughly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” the boy lies, shrugging (though even his heart is racing).

“Hey,” the Alpha breathes tenderly, catching the boy’s jaw in nimble fingers. “I’m sorry. Please, accept my apology?”

With a slow, timid grin, Louis brings his hand to rest at Harry’s temple, brushing his curls back gently. “Really, it’s okay. I’m okay,” and the simple words, the touch of his hand, balances the Alpha, even as the sense of shame (at his own stupidity) doesn’t abate.

Needing a moment, Harry doesn’t speak, instead his eyes skate over the boy’s outfit hungrily. Tonight, his Omega is dressed in pearl grey trousers, rolled up to reveal dainty ankles, and tight enough to hug his thighs and bum, while his deep blue button-up reveals nothing. And Louis looks perfect, as per usual.

“You look breathtaking, love,” he compliments. “I’m very fond of this colour on you.”  

Blushing prettily, Louis mumbles, “Thought it might be a bit much. Niall can be outrageous sometimes…”

“It’s perfect. You always look perfect,” the Alpha assures, though the Omega still looks unsure, so Harry adds, “Doubt I’ll be able to keep my eyes on anything else but you.”

A soft, sweet sound escapes the boy’s lips before Louis admits, in a barely audible voice, “I want them on me. Always do.”

Groaning low in his throat, Harry tenses, his blood rushes through his veins and he’s hard, his cock very visible and (not to sound too arrogant) very noticeable which– _fan-fucking-tastic._ “You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, dropping his hands and retreating.

Except the Alpha instantly regrets the words. Louis’s face falls–shame and disappointment flood through him.

“Wait, Lou–,”

With a disparaging look, the Omega mumbles, “Don’t. Let’s go inside. Everyone is waiting.” And the Alpha nearly growls in warning, but stops himself because this hole (grave) he’s dug himself is not getting any smaller.

“Right,” Harry mutters, frustrated by his lack thereof composure, but grabs the Omega’s hand nonetheless and holds the entrance open for him. Once inside the warm café, the scent of pastries surrounds them. Sighing happily, Louis tilts his face to better catch the aroma while Harry gazes down at him (probably making heart-eyes, but damn it, the Alpha is very, very captivated by this boy’s every reaction).

“Do you visit often?” the Alpha wonders as he steers the Omega in direction of their group–whom are seated at a table to the farthest left, seemingly ignoring each other (besides Niall, which isn’t very surprising, the Irish lad seems rather chatty).

“Not often enough,” Louis replies, regret woven in his tone. “It’s rather expensive and a bit of a ride so…”

Which, _no,_ that isn’t going to do. Louis Tomlinson should have the world in his soft, gentle ( _tiny)_ hands. And Harry wants to give it to him. Harry wants to lavish and spoil and love him until the Omega is so pleased and content and _happy_ (the Alpha has a hunch that Louis isn’t happy as he should be). Perhaps, the Alpha thinks, starting here would be a very under-the-radar sort of way to begin (there isn’t any way Harry can simply give extravagant gifts–the Omega would _certainly_ fuss).

Perhaps, perhaps, Harry starts to go through the more basic means to go about it.

They arrive at the table and the Alpha’s suspicions are confirmed–it really _is_ awkward. Well, this is going to be a long, long evening after all.

_-o-_

Introductions are fleeting–which Louis isn’t at all bothered by (the Omega has always been terrible at introductions). So, instead of greeting Zayn stupidly, Louis only smiles nervously at the other, who reaches over to squeezes his shoulder in welcome. Then, it’s over, really.

Except once Louis introduces Harry to Liam (officially) the Omega realises his people-skills could be much _worse,_ seeing as Harry only coughs and nods at Liam, who politely says, “Hello,” because Liam is a by-the-book sort of bloke. Josh doesn’t seem overly interested in anything other than Niall, who attempts to lighten the atmosphere, offering to purchase every drink available and have Louis guess which is which. Alas, Louis only manages to laugh weakly, preoccupied with playing an extremely difficult game of thumb-war underneath the table against Harry–who, of course, has won twice already.

Josh and Niall–not only are the two inseparable and _disgustingly_ in love, but have also formed a soft-spot for the whole ‘when the going gets tough, the tough get going’ bit–quickly opt to order the beverages. When Zayn and Liam finish telling the two what they want (some sort of latte and herbal coffee) Louis mumbles, “Tea, with a splash of milk and three sugars.” Mirroring him, Harry says, “Tea, no milk, one sugar.”

Then, the couple is off, leaving two tense Alpha and two very hesitant Omegas.

Soon, Harry wins the third round of thumb-war and Louis tries not pout over it (least the other two suspect what’s going on) when Zayn asks, “So, Louis, what year you in?” 

Startled, Louis scrambles for an answer, “O-Oh, I-I’m in my eleventh year.”

“That’s cool, yeah? Still have a bit more time to go through options or…whatever,” the other replies casually.

Flushing, Louis nods self-consciously, but tentatively tries to keep the conversation steady. “What about you? What’s your year, I mean?”

“This is my last,” the other Omega murmurs. “Thank fuck.”

Blinking, Louis turns to Harry, speaking only to him now, “You’re in your last year?”

Before the Omega receives an answer, Josh and Niall approach–Niall is talking (more like _gossiping)_ enthusiastically, “I don’t think it’s gotten any less weird– _oh!_ Whoops, didn’t see that there, wait… _okay, okay,_ I’ll be quiet. Sheesh, I didn’t know they were looking!” And really, Louis thinks, slightly amused, Niall couldn’t be much louder, in all honesty.

Though nobody comments, Harry leans down to whisper into his ear, “My perspective on leprechauns is forever altered.”

Grinning into the Alpha’s shoulder, Louis shakes his head, though the grin fades as the Omega’s mind wanders. Knocking him into reality, Harry announces, “I’m going to have a smoke.”

Louis blinks, confused, because there hadn’t been any indication that Harry smoked. Then again, the Omega realises, there isn’t much he really knows about Harry Styles.

“I’ll join,” Liam says next.

Louis opens his mouth to remind the Alpha that he’s never smoked a day in his life when something collides with his knee and he yelps, “Ouch!”

“Are you–?”

“Oops, sorry,” Niall interrupts, not sounding sorry at all. “Foot slipped. He’s fine, right Lou?”

“Yeah,” the Omega agrees weakly. “I’m fine.”

Then, the two Alphas are gone, and Louis flounders, feeling his cheeks pale and the breath leave him in a rush.

Unexpectedly, someone puts a hand to his shoulder–the touch is light, but oddly reassuring. “Don’t worry, mate, they’ll be fine,” Zayn tells him quietly.

And maybe Zayn isn’t so bad, Louis decides, smiling appreciatively at the other, before striking up another conversation.

_-o-_

                Harry expects Liam to follow–like the puppy he is, the spiteful part of him snarls. Except the Alpha _doesn’t_ expect the other Alpha to try and put his hands on him. But, surprise, surprise, the idiot does.

Before his hand makes contact, Harry turns and fists his shirt in his hands, pinning him to the wall forcefully. Momentarily shocked, Liam remains still, though the other seems to realise what’s happened and snarls, “Let _go.”_  

Tightening his hold, Harry bares his canines and holds the other Alpha’s gaze. “I’d watch your tone. ‘Cause I’m not feeling very charitable towards you at the moment.”

Gritting his teeth, Liam repeats, “Let me go, Styles.”

“Make me, _Payne,_ ” the Alpha taunts, smirking sloppily. “Actually, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here?”

“I’m here as Louis’s friend.”

Well, well, well, Louis seemed to have “forgotten” to inform Harry of the little change. That isn’t going to pass without some discussion; the Alpha decides, before prompting, “Thought the two of you were at odds.”

“We…had a chat,” Liam answers, grinning a grin that makes the Alpha’s veins burn like hot silver wires running just under his skin.

Another growl rips through him as Harry tightens his hold on the other’s now crumpled shirt. “If you touched him I swear–,” _I will tear you limb from limb, slowly and–_

“Down butch,” Liam growls with too much say-so. “It wasn’t…It was strictly platonic. I’m not one to mess about with…I wouldn’t do that to Louis, trust me.”

“I wouldn’t _dare.”_

“Why aren’t I surprised? You know, you might be a bit more likeable if…Well, probably not.” At least he’s honest.

But Harry Styles doesn’t _care_ to be likable or even _tolerable–_ never has and never will. “And what was said during this little chat?”

This time Liam hesitates, before muttering, “You should ask Louis.”

“You should answer my question,” Harry snaps back, keeping their gazes level, daring him to disagree when something changes.

Abruptly, the rigid hold over Liam’s body loosens and the Alpha wilts in his hold. “You won’t find an excuse to row out of me, Harry.”

Harry’s vision flashes red. “Awe, little Liam, _scared?_ Figures, I’m not even supr–,” something slams into the Alpha face.

Shocked, Harry staggers backwards (because, what the hell?) when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. “Oh my God! I didn’t–Shit, man, I wasn’t–,”

_Fuck. That._

“I’m going to _fucking kill you!”_ Harry snarls, regaining his balance to stalk towards Liam–who looks almost remorseful, the idiot–before shoving him into the brick wall. Then, the Alpha wraps his fingers around Liam’s throat, and–

Cursing wildly, Harry turns away, feeling the rage drain as his thoughts find Louis again. His little Omega, who is currently waiting for him to return with Liam walking on _two_ legs; counting on him not to screw this up, his little, trusting Omega.

“God _damn it,”_ the Alpha grunts, exhaling heavily, and then cursing a bit more.

“I’m assuming you’ve gotten your shit together with Louis then?” Harry demands, feeling the slight pain in his jaw go numb. That’s going to bruise, he thinks idly.

“I’ve apologised, yes,” Liam answers, then, “I’m sorry…about that, by the way.”

“Noted,” the Alpha mutters–he hates apologies. “Perhaps it’s time we stopped acting stupid?”

“It’s probably for the best,” the other admits, sounding repulsively ashamed before extending a hand, “Truce?”

“Sure, whatever,” Harry says, waving his hand away. Touching is a hard-limit at this point.

“Well…” Liam clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “For the record, I didn’t mean that shit I said the last time. I was…Reckon it’s an Alpha thing.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, shooting the other a wicked grin–his idea of a truce. “Alpha thing.”

And, the Alpha decides they can attempt to play nice–for Louis _, at least._   

_-o-_

                When the two Alpha’s finally return, Louis finds the atmosphere lightens considerably. And the Omega is _happy,_ listening to Niall and Liam argue about what _really_ happened the time Niall broke Liam’s nose, Niall claiming to have lost his “cool” and knock Liam one proper and Liam arguing that it was “unexpected foul-play”. When the two decide Louis be the ‘decision-maker’ the Omega simply smiles, recalling what had actually occurred that day at the playground.

_“Higher, higher!” Louis shouts, laughing too loud as Niall rushes passed him._

_“I don’t reckon I can go any higher, Lou!” Liam yells over him. He glares in nothing in particular._

_“I want to beat him!”_

_“You’ll never beat me,” Niall calls; swooshing passed again on his swing–Louis could never master the art of swinging without help, such was his life._

_Heaving on his swing, Louis rushes forward, tipping his head back and howling (at thirteen, it hadn’t seemed quite so embarrassing). The sound of Louis’s high, easy laughter echoes in the vacated night_.

_“Noo!” Niall cries, shaking his swings’ chains in mock frustration when out of nowhere there’s a muted thud as the Irish lad crashes into the ground._

_Confused and a bit scared, Louis leaps from his swing, crawling aimlessly before locating the Irish Omega, who’s shaking badly as Liam runs forward. Then, Niall’s laughing hysterically._

_“Fuck, oh God,” he gasps, voice high with laughter and Louis’s eyes widen._

_“Oh God,” Liam repeats, though Niall continues to laugh._

_“That was so funnnnn…” Louis thinks the Irish lad is delirious. But, before Louis can even think to get help or something equally as unhelpful, there’s a distinct sound of skin-meeting-skin in a slap. Niall cuts off mid-laugh._

_Then, in seconds, the Irish lad is lurching forward, barely missing Louis but tackling Liam and punching the other straight out._

_As the Alpha curses, Niall says, “Teach you to touch an Omega.”_

_“Niall–wha…What happened?” Louis shrills, frantic and horrified._

_“I broke Liam’s nose, I think,” the other replies, rather cheerfully._

_And Liam groans spectacularly, “I’m never going to live this down.”_

It so happens that those words happened to be correct. As Louis tells the story, Josh laughs outright and Zayn chuckles here and there, though Harry gives no reaction (as far as the Omega can tell). For a while, the Alpha only tangles and untangles their hands–seemingly at ease.

A new conversation is struck up, but Louis isn’t listening and Harry takes the opportunity to gently bump their foreheads. “Oops,” the Alpha breathes–an obvious grin in his voice.

Giggling, the Omega wiggles closer, “Hi.”

“I give it two months,” Harry whispers, mouth brushing his ear. “Before Zayn and Liam are shagging like rabbits.”

“Harry,” the Omega gasps, about to insist the Alpha explain when Harry murmurs, “Listen.”

And for the first time since introductions, Harry speaks up, “Zayn, why don’t you tell the guys about your comic collection?”

There’s a beat of silence before Liam asks, “What sort of comics?”

“Oh, well…” Zayn mumbles–sounding faintly shy, which _whoa–,_ “it’s nothing, like, spectacular. Just some Marvel originals…It’s cool, I guess.”

 “Originals?” Liam sounds _very_ impressed and even _interested._ “Wow. That’s…something…”

“It is, isn’t it?” Harry interjects proudly, “Actually, Zayn’s a bit obsessed. Collects the comics, movies, games and even–,”

“Stop, I can speak for myself, Harry,” the other Omega interrupts coolly. “And it’s really _not_ such a big deal. It’s cool–,”

“Cool? That’s amazing. Like, _wow…_ ” The conversation progresses that way. Liam–who’s extremely Marvel and D.C. dedicated–insisting Zayn show him his collections.

And–“Wow,” Louis murmurs, facing Harry with wide eyes.  “Very impressive, Alphaboy. Quite the matchmaker, you are.”

“Mmm,” the Alpha hums, tugging him that much closer, “Call me the _Love-Doctor._ ”

“Not happening,” Louis murmurs–fighting a smile. “You can do so much better than that, surely.”

“Alas, my love, you give me too much credit, as my imagination only goes so far.” _My love._

 Butterflies flutter in Louis’s belly, making his heart race. _My love…_ the words are pretty and sweet and _his._

With a little sigh, the Omega returns to reality, trying to remember that the words were teasing. “How did you figure Liam was a fan of comics anyway?”

Shrugging, Harry says, “I didn’t. It was chance. Just, Zayn seems very shy and Liam keeps glancing at him. So, I put two and two together and took a chance.”

“Daring, are we?” Louis murmurs softly–biting his bottom lip and batting (yes, Louis is trying to _flirt)_ his lashes.

“Very,” Harry replies, tugging him again (consequentially, Louis loses balance and ends up in Harry’s space, cuddled underneath his arm). The only scent his Omega responds to floods his senses and the boy almost whimpers in pleasure–it’s _so much,_ maybe even too much. “Not moving,” the Alpha declares, smoothing the boy’s hair tenderly.

Louis doesn’t _ever_ want to move, but that doesn’t stop him from putting up a challenge, “Neither am I.”

Squirming, his legs end up in Harry’s lap–the Alpha setting one hand rough on his ankle. “We both fit.”

“Barely,” Louis chides. “You should move, seeing as I’ve already gotten comfy.

“So have I.”

“Seems we’ve got a bit of an issue, then, don’t we?”

“Hardly,” the Alpha breathes, voice taking that slow, thick tenor, “Being so close to you is always a _pleasure.”_ At the words, Louis stops breathing, his head begins to feel fuzzy and– “Breathe, baby,” Harry reminds him and on command, the Omega inhales much needed air.

“You…are…trying to… _kill_ me,” the Omega accuses, finding his voice (and thoughts) at last.

With a husky chuckle, the Alpha shakes his head, “Your reactions are very upsetting sometimes. How could you possibly forget to breathe?”

“You’re upset,” Louis starts, “I’m the one who nearly _died!_ And I didn’t _forget –,”_

“Awe. Look, guys!” Niall cuts in suddenly. “Aren’t they just the cutest things?!”

“Niall,” Josh warns, “Don’t look; they’re in the _lovestruck_ phase. They’re going to be weird.”

“You two have _no_ room to talk,” Louis defends with a pout.

“What? Not at all. You’re _wrong!”_ both Alpha and Omega disagree in unison–and if that doesn’t say something, then what is life?

First to laugh is Harry, then Zayn and Liam, until Louis snickers as well.

With a haughty snivel, Niall mutters, “Fine! Go on; laugh it up, bunch of cunts.”

Louis grins winningly at Harry with the sneaking suspicion that Harry is grinning back.

“Lovestruck phase! Told ya!” Josh chimes over the sounds of Niall’s grumbles.

Ignoring them, the Alpha crushes Louis to his chest, arms locking around the Omega’s waist. Content, Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and sinks into the blissful haven–surrounded by his favourite people, who _are_ admittedly, a bunch of cunts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honest, I dunno how I feel about this one. It's a bit shit, sorry. 
> 
> Lots of love,  
> Would love your thoughts?  
> .xx


	12. Part Twelve;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCREAMS. LOTS & LOTS OF SCREAMS! It's been too long! But this update is very lengthy (thinking of you all, always!) and took a ton of decisions, ideas, and HELP. 
> 
> Firstly, thank you all! You guys are so, so, so lovely!  
> And, thanks to my majestic, amazing Beta's: MoonDynasty (smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) & Fondlemezayn.tumblr.com! Without you two I don't know what I'd do! You're the bestest, most lovely people! 
> 
> Well, enough chit chat, here we are;

Time continues insistently slow, but uncomfortably quick all the same. But nothing proves exactly easy either. The first few weeks, with all the boys together, are still uneasy, but in the course of those weeks, Liam and Harry finally become tolerable of each other; until the two Alphas actually begin to tease Louis, enough that the Omega is blushing permanently– face heated and too-many-shades-brighter. When their recently formed group isn’t together, Louis is with Harry–his Mum absolutely adores the Alpha, which isn’t shocking at all, as the Alpha is naturally charismatic–and then, the most trying aspect of his present day life: the ‘surprise’ dates.

 _Expensive_ surprise outings that the Omega always makes a point to scold the Alpha for–because Louis doesn’t need to be lavished with gifts (the weighty bracelets that cost too much for Louis to even imagine, the books, the flower crowns–yes, _plural,_ each braided in intricate designs and petals). Multiple times the Omega tried to make the Alpha realise how unnecessary (because Louis only needs Harry–though that remains unsaid, the Alpha just couldn’t know how attached Louis was becoming, not so soon) but Harry Styles is unrelenting and unfair–using that _voice_ twice, the voice that makes Louis’s insides melt and his thoughts dissolve–until the Omega reluctantly agrees to accept the gifts as graciously as possible (meaning Louis denies and fusses until the Alpha is whispering persuasive words, his rough, calloused hands wandering over Louis’s sides.)

Just like that, normal becomes an entirely separate universe. Monday through Friday, during school hours, the two only parted for class, spending lunch with the boys. Upon dismissal, the two would seek refuge (away from Jay) in the school’s library, where Louis would push Harry to do his homework while the Omega read the books given ( _forced)_ to him. Some Saturdays, Harry would come over and watch him do the specific chores his Mum expected of him (Jay having decided long ago that Louis _wasn’t_ incapacitated and could do chores like everyone else –though they were significantly simpler than most). Though the Omega begged him to stop staring, as it makes Louis that much clumsier and self-conscious, the Alpha only answered, “Don’t deprive a starving male, little one, you’re so beautiful when you’re focused. I could watch for ages.”

And, well, Louis isn’t the best with words, doesn’t know how to manipulate them like those authors from novels, so the Omega hides his face and continues to organise the kitchen.

And, finally, Sundays–or doomsday, when Harry would reserve those _dates–_ to restaurants in London, and walks through the parks and beaches, and even concerts (which might’ve been the Omega’s favourite as Harry Styles held him the entire night–the Alpha usually made a point to keep a distance, which both disappointed and relieved Louis). Those nights, the Alpha would hum along to every song, voice thick and coarse and…equally as compelling–to Danny O’Donoghue and Chris Martin and so many others–too many to begin to count, even in mere months.

Now, in the kitchen, Harry and his Mum chat over business (which Louis finds to be both confusing and boring, though the Alpha is apparently very familiar with the field) while Louis sits, cross-legged on the sofa in the living room, marveling over these times.

“Louis,” the Alpha’s voice is abruptly very close, breaking through his reverie. “Love, where are you?”

Without his noticing, Harry seemed to have settled beside him on the sofa, his body-heat beginning to reach Louis despite the inches separating them. Flushing, Louis mumbles, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, love,” the Alpha murmurs, catching his face in strong, sure fingers while holding the distance. “You disappear so completely into your mind sometimes,” Harry continues, voice thoughtful, before thickening into molasses, “I wish I could follow you.”

 _You do,_ Louis nearly blurts, _you live in my mind, always._ Instead, the boy smiles shyly, before asking, “Did you need something?”

“Well,” Harry starts, wary amusement colouring his tone, “Spring Break’s next week…”

Frowning, Louis shuffles, movements equally cautious as he brings his knees to his chest, familiar with the Alpha’s careful approach to topics he _knows_ Louis won’t be exactly open with. “And?”

“And,” the Alpha murmurs, cool and level, “I had planned a trip to Paris for the time and thought –,”

“No,” Louis interrupts–though Harry’s answering silence has him hastily explaining, “I-I couldn’t…Mum needs my help with the girls and she wouldn’t allow–,”

“I’ve already asked,” Harry states quietly.

With a small sigh, the Omega comes to terms with the fact that nobody, not even stern, no-nonsense Jay can deny a determined Harry Styles.  Even so, Louis _tries._ “I-I still couldn’t,” the boy’s voice is meek, “I mean, like, I can’t possibly afford that…”  
  
“You know I wouldn’t expect that of you, Louis,” Harry’s answering voice is indifferent, giving away nothing–though, his Omega, sensing what Louis can’t, is triggered, catching him by surprise.

Without permission, Louis begins to ramble, “I know. I’m…I’m sorry, Harry. Please, don’t think I…Forgive me…I’m…Just, don’t, please? Please, don’t do this to me…” And without a doubt, the Omega knows the depth in those words, knows _please, don’t do this to me,_ in Louis-Language, translates to: _don’t leave me. I can’t stand the distance. Just…stay with me._

Knowing this, the guilt begins to build, but Louis bites his tongue against his Omega and remains quiet–pleading forgiveness with his eyes. 

“Come ‘ere, love,” the Alpha murmurs, and somehow Louis ends up in Harry’s lap, looking up at the Alpha, who thumbs soothingly at the corner of his mouth. “Talk to me. Help me understand why it’s so difficult to accept what I’m offering, Louis.”

Involuntarily, a vicious shudder runs up his spine as his body soaks up the abrupt heat, though somehow Louis manages to speak, “You’ve given me so much already. And I-I don’t need or expect any of it, really, I don’t…You shouldn’t have to provide for me. We’re not…You haven’t….I mean, it’s–,”

Saving him from any more mortification at the notion of mating, Harry starts evenly, “I’m an Alpha, sweet boy…Somehow, I’m not all that shocked that my Omega, of all, would be the one to think otherwise. Louis Tomlinson, please understand that I am _more_ than able to give, to you, whatever you desire. And I’m extremely happy to do so. But it’s not only my wants, it’s my _job_ to spoil you rotten and protect and care for you.”

“Correct me if I’ve misunderstood,” Louis works to keep his tone light, “But what you’re saying is that an Alpha is equivalent to a Sugar Daddy?”

Seemingly startled, Harry coughs, “Christ, Lou. How–? I said _no_ such thing…but, if the shoe fits…”

“Harry!” the Omega gasps, stunned, “You are _such_ an Alpha!”

“And _you,”_ the Alpha breathes, and his lips brush the hollow of the Omega’s ear, causing Louis to squirm, as the contact sends heat spiraling through him, “are avoiding the issue, my little Omega.”

Without warning, the sensation ignites, and the Omega, caught in the whirlwind, doesn’t notice Harry cradling him impossibly closer, arms iron clasps secured around his thin waist as the Alpha exhales over the skin of his throat–scenting him. “You _terrify_ me,” Louis blurts, voice reedy as the resistance begins to fade as his Omega marvels, all wired-nerves.

Tensing, the Alpha becomes eerily quiet, until Louis wishes his Omega understood the concept of self-control. At last, Harry speaks, voice grave–though Louis can’t begin to fathom the reason until–, “It isn’t intentional, Lou, I’d never…There isn’t…Just, I can’t seem to channel my emotions when…when you’re so close…but I’m trying. Obviously not hard enough, though.”

“ _No!_ No,” Louis rushes, horrified, “Th-That’s not what I meant, Harry! I-It’s not _you!_ It’s me...You…You’re an Alpha, w-who has _choices_ and…I can’t…You haven’t…” _oh no,_ Louis thinks, so humiliated, wishing he could sink into the ground and never show his face again.

“What haven’t I done, sweetheart?” the Alpha prompts, voice soft, placating.

Louis burrows his face in the slope of Harry’s shoulder–hiding from his burning gaze, the gaze that compels him to answer with the truth, “You haven’t…Haven’t I behaved? B-Because I-I’ve been trying…to be good…” _like Niall always seems to be for Josh._

Cheeks burning, Louis can practically hear the gears shift in Harry’s head before the Alpha curses.

In response, the Omega cringes, managing to scramble away (the Alpha’s grip having slackened–probably revolted by how pathetic Louis is) to the farthest end of the sofa. Strangely hesitant, Harry closes the distance again, prying his hands away from where they shield his heated face and kissing each of his fingertips. “No, baby, no, no, no…You’re so–fuck, Louis, you’re only ever perfect to me.”

“I’m sorry…?” Louis mumbles, confused and torn, listening to his Omega blare against the words–furious with him for being so needy. And despite the words, his heart plummets passed his ribs and into his belly as the traitor tears gather in his eyes.

“No,” the Alpha repeats, voice strong and deadly quiet. “None of that. You’re lovely. So, so good to me.”

Warmth floods through him; his Omega mewls happily, basking in an Alpha’s praise. Swiftly, Harry strokes his cheek, bends forward, and kisses him softly, briefly. And his heart, already racing, splutters frantically.

“Will you at least _think_ about joining?” he asks carefully.

 _No,_ the Omega thinks tenaciously, biting his lip against the instant response and grudgingly murmuring, “Fine,” because Louis doesn’t have the energy to continue this argument.

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Harry stands. Twining their fingers, the Alpha brings him to his feet, murmuring, “That’s all I ask. Now, come, let’s finish these chores before Jay decides I’m becoming a distraction.”

Grinning, Louis lets the Alpha lead him forward, “But, Haz, you _are_ distracting me.”

Stopping him mid-step, Harry’s arms circle his waist as the Alpha growls playfully, “I’d better be, or all my efforts would have been for nothing.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis wiggles out of the embrace and promptly makes a grand exit, purposely swaying his hips and _hoping_ the Alpha’s eyes follow.

∞∞∞  


That evening, when Liam leaves Andy’s flat, the looming dejection makes its descent over him once more. But, the Alpha is used to this feeling, has dealt with it since fifteen, though it wasn’t so difficult to maintain back then, when Liam always had the simple solace of _‘one day’._ Now, with that reassurance gone, replaced by the flat, dark realisation that _‘one day’_ never actually _was._

Teeth clenched, Liam changes his route, towards nowhere in particular. Just _away–_ from Andy, and his self-assured words, ‘ _don’t stress mate, he wasn’t even_ worth _your time, honest.’_ Because the truth is, Louis _was_ worth his time, always would be, it’s Liam who wasn’t– _isn’t–_ worth the Omega’s time. But the Alpha refuses to throw a pity-party, refuses to _acknowledge_ the sting of rejection.

 _Time to get over it, Payne,_ his Alpha urges, unaffected as ever.

With a snort, Liam shakes his head, in attempts to efface the clutter of emotions. Nothing changes, but the Alpha can only quicken his pace, focusing on the exertion.

A while continues in complete darkness, until Liam reaches the heart of their quiet, soft-spoken town. Most places have closed for the night, leaving Tesco’s and the Petrol Stations. Somehow, the Alpha finds himself in Tesco’s, with a jar of jam in each hand–one strawberry, the other grape.

“Having trouble there?” a quiet, melodic voice chirps from beside him. A voice his Alpha would recognise anywhere–across the English Channel or in a crowded room, or even in Tesco’s, because it’s _that_ voice.

Muscles tense, Liam turns, of course his Alpha’s intuition as never failed before, as the small Omega _is_ revealed–the Omega with the sweet voice, from lunch and the café, the one with the equally as sweet chocolate-brown eyes.

In a trance, Liam stares, until the Omega raises an eyebrow, looking almost worried for him. And _damn it–_ could he be any worse off? Clearing his throat, the Alpha realises how he must look with two jars of ruddy jam in his hands. “Jam,” Liam explains, shrugging (as casually as possible), “It’s unbelievably difficult to choose which. They’re both…”

Too stop his rambling, Liam extends his hands in offering, and grinning, Zayn grabs them in his smaller hands. In the process, their fingers make contact and with a vicious energy his Alpha rouses. Since his presentation, his Alpha has never _reacted,_ but now it urges him to touch the small Omega again, and again, and again. And Liam looks at the Omega again–the Omega who’s long eyelashes cast shadows on his sharp cheeks, the Omega with beautiful complex and… _Christ._

Abruptly, oxygen fails him, and his mind retracts, realising he isn’t looking as _Liam,_ he’s looking as an Alpha looks at only an Omega. And his Alpha has never seen any Omega as a potential mate, not even Louis.

“You’re right,” the Omega hums quietly, lips curving into a frown. “They’re both rather tasty.” _As you’d be._

At the thought, Liam inhales sharply, and works to keep his thoughts from going _there,_ because that’s wholly improper and against his basic _morals._ “Well,” the Alpha breathes, sounding horribly winded, “I’ll have to purchase them both then, I suppose.”

“That’s the only reasonable solution,” Zayn agrees, then shuffles, “I–um, I’ll see you, then…?” And then the Omega goes to _walk away_ –which, no, not a chance.

“Wait,” Liam calls, catching his thin wrist in one hand–the contact sends a shock up his arm, which the Omega must feel too, because Zayn freezes, breath stuttering. Liam grips the opportunity, “It’s late. You shouldn’t be out at this time alone….Let me… _May I_ walk you home?”

For a tense second, Liam almost thinks the Omega won’t accept, but at last Zayn looks up, smiling shyly and mumbling, “Yeah. Um, that…that’d be nice?” It’s more a question than anything, but the Alpha understands and releases him.

At the register, Liam insists on buying the Omega’s packet of Oreo’s and Redbull (which the Alpha thinks cannot possibly be healthy?). Zayn pouts, but rather than feeling sympathetic, Liam finds it the most adorable pout he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing. In fact, the Alpha decides he’ll be paying more often.

“You know,” Liam starts, as the two tread through the darkness, “You never did show me those comics…”

Chewing an Oreo, the Omega swallows before answering, “I didn’t think you’d actually want to see them. I mean, I could tell you were interested…but we never, like, actually talked again. So…I figured…”

Frustrated by his own idiocy, Liam mutters, “I–Yeah, I’ve been shit lately. Or so everybody continues to remind me…”

“Nah,” the Omega shrugs, smiling up at him, “So much has been going on, yeah? What with Haz and Louis. So, like, I don’t think badly of you at all, honest.” _Haz?_ At the pet-name, something dark and unwelcome uncurls in his chest–his Alpha sneers in response.

With some effort Liam smiles, murmuring, “So, how about those comics then? I really _am_ quite impressed.”

In the darkness, the Omega’s cheeks are bright, as he stumbles over his words, “Would…You can, like, come over tomorrow, I mean, that’s if you’re not too busy. I would invite you in tonight…but I’m not even supposed to be out. Just really craved some Oreo’s…”

 _Dear God,_ Liam gathers this Omega is _looking_ for trouble. That won’t do. With a breath, the Alpha decides this self-assured boy _needs_ to be kept safe. And that’s his mission–though, judging by the Omega’s attitude towards Harry, that wouldn’t be a welcomed response.

Alas, the Alpha has _always_ been sensible, and remembers, “I have to meet up with Niall and Josh tomorrow…Join us? And afterwards, you can show me?”

“Yeah,” the Omega nods, beaming now. “I’d like that.”

Too caught up in the boy’s smile, Liam can only nod, stepping into unison with his steps, extremely pleased by the proximity.

Too soon, Zayn stops at the gates of a modernized flat, and with chagrin, Liam realises this is where they part ways.

 _But only for now,_ his Alpha reminds icily.

“So, um…” _Come on, step it up, Payne._

Holding the Omega’s liquid chocolate gaze, Liam closes to small space and dares to place a gentle kiss over the skin of his cheek, taking the chance to inhale the intoxicating scent of soap, tinged with sweetness.

“Tomorrow then, love. I’ll be here at two,” the Alpha murmurs, watching intently as Zayn stumbles away, nodding even as he disappears.

Alone again, Liam realises the heavy feeling has faded a bit, realises that he can manage breathing again, realises Louis’s name has been replaced with Zayn’s. In fact, the Alpha realises thoughts of Louis have been replaced with thoughts of the one Omega to reach his Alpha.

∞∞∞  


            With a gasp, Louis jolts awake, panting, the Omega takes deep breaths to stop the shaking. Familiar shivers run up his spine, uncontrollable, suffocating him in a rivulet of thick, omnipresent memories. Clutching the blankets, Louis becomes aware of his surroundings, his subconscious chanting _it isn’t real, it isn’t real, it isn’t real._

And the Omega _knows_ this, though the knowledge doesn’t help–the images and the sounds that were once real, seem the same, even now (so many years later). 

Hands trembling, Louis makes contact with the cool surface of his nightstand, searching. Within seconds, Louis’s fingers grip his mobile, making ( _slow)_ work of dialing the only number his mind refuses to forget.

Struggling to breathe, Louis makes the two long rings his focus, until a sleep-addled voice rumbles, “Lou.”

Just like that, with a simple breath, the Omega crosses the threshold to his happy place, where those memories can’t touch him.  

Relieved, a soft sigh slips through his lips, as the boy’s body unwinds, slumping into the mass of pillows. “Haz, my Hazza.”

Over the line there’s a short ruffling and grunt before, “Mmm. You’ve captured my attention.”

“Mission accomplished,” Louis mumbles, exhaustion creeping over him.

“You cease to surprise me,” the Alpha’s voice flows more leisurely than ever, creating a warm lullaby, urging him to sleep, “You’re so sharp-tongued in the day, but at night, you’re soft as a kitten.” 

“Meow,” the Omega breathes, snuggling closer to the phone, “Now I can be a little _kitty!”_

“ _Pretty,_ little kitty,” Harry adds, gravelly voice leaking an Alpha’s resonance, “My pretty, little kitty.”

Louis’s heart slams against his chest, and the butterflies escape from his tummy into his constricting throat. “I’m going to regret saying that in the morning, aren’t I?”

“I reckon so,” the Alpha chuckles, then, “It’s late, love. You need to sleep.”

“But, Haz–,” Louis begins sulkily only to be interrupted.

“It’s late,” Harry says again, murmuring, almost crooning now, voice hushed. “Sleep, my Louis. My only love.”

  _My only love…_ those words consume his sleep-ridden mind as the Alpha begins to hum some nameless tune and Louis, warm and lost to the tune, succumbs to sleep. 

 

∞∞∞

           

Slowly, luxuriously, consciousness steals Louis away. Sighing, the Omega sits up, though his hand makes contact with his phone and–

The night’s events come rushing to mind as Louis shivers.

_Harry…_

With a smile, the Omega receives his notifications from his mobile–finding one message from Alphaboy (his heart may or may not miss a beat).

On command, the phone reads;

_Kitten,_

_I’m rather disappointed I didn’t have the privilege of waking up to your voice, alas, duty calls. Be ready around two, yeah?_

_Thinking of you always,_

_Your Haz .xx_

_Kitten?_ Of course, Louis thinks, moaning and burrowing his flushed face into his pillow. Once the embarrassment fades, the Omega shakes his head, deciding there isn’t time to think into it now. Instead, Louis climbs out of bed and straightens up (to the best of his ability) before drifting into the bathroom with a towel in his hands and a fresh outfit–a normal shirt with joggers and high-socks.

In the bathroom, Louis removes his clothes and quickly clambers into the shower, anxious to be under the cleansing stream of water. It cascades over him, and the boy bares his face into the welcoming torrent. Under the warm, soothing water, the Omega hums, reaching for the strawberry scented body wash.

All at once, something kindles low, low in his belly and his hands, rubbing the body wash into the skin of his shoulders, falter. In seconds, his Omega has created a mantra of _HarryHarryHarry._ Control failing him, Louis doesn’t attempt to stop his Omega from reacting, doesn’t stop his hands from massaging the scented soap into his skin, across his chest, over his tummy and thighs, but _never_ daring to touch himself…there. Too spineless, even as he thinks, imagines, _fantasizes_ long fingered hands caressing him instead.

 His heartbeat picks up; this feels so…so… _good._

 _“Oh,”_ his voice is breathy when his nails skim over his collarbone– _is this supposed to happen?_

“Louis! _Hurry up,_ won’t you? I have _plans_ and–!” in the hall Lottie continues to shriek.

“S-Sorry! I’m coming!” the Omega stutters, yanked cruelly from…whatever that was. Without the feeling, Louis manages to touch those previously _untouchable_ places before washing the suds away, climbing out and grabbing his towel. Hastily, he dries, ignoring the pleasurable feel of the towel against his over-sensitized skin.

Once he’s finished, Louis dresses (shoving his arm through the wrong hole _twice)_ and taking deep, calming breaths before wrenching the door open. “Sorry,” the Omega mumbles again, face down as he rushes into his room, face ablaze with embarrassment.

Even changed (in a white button-up–his Mum having colour-coordinated his wardrobe again, knee-high navy shorts, and white plimsolls) with his hair in a somewhat styled ruffle, Louis doesn’t dare leave his room, ashamed and confused and–going mad with questions that he _refuses_ to even think about bringing up to his Mum.With a sigh, Louis decides against hiding out until Harry shows, realising it’d only make Jay that much more suspicious. _Just, act normal,_ the Omega thinks, quietly approaching the high-stools at the island in the kitchen, where Jay bustles nosily, preparing lunch for the girls.

Seated, Louis swings his legs, back and forth, back and forth, focused on the steady rhythm when Jay shatters his growing composure, “You’re quiet this afternoon. Everything okay? Harry tells me you don’t want to join him on his trip to Paris?”

Blanching, the Omega’s eyebrows furrow and irritation wells up inside him, “You and _Harry_ need to stop gossiping like old-women.”

“Apologies, love,” his Mum murmurs, trying to sound contrite, “But, I’m quite interested. Where could you possibly go wrong in Paris? It _is_ the City of Love and all.”

Colour rising in his cheek, Louis mutters, “Mum, please, I’d rather _not_ have this conversation right now. 

“Louis Tomlinson, there is no getting out this one,” Jay states tersely, “Now, let’s hear it and–,”

Throughout the house, the bell chimes and before his Mum can speak again, Louis sprints to the front-door, wrestling the locks before opening it with a relieved, “Harry!”

“Hello to you too,” the Alpha murmurs, sardonically amused– _stupid, ‘superior-than-thou’ Alpha mindset._

“I’m ready,” the Omega claims, stepping outside, “Let’s go.”

“Already? But I’ve only just arrived and I’m sure Jay–,”

“No,” Louis blurts desperately, sure his Mum must be approaching by now, “We’re going…I’m…I’m famished.” The whole ‘ _starving’_ bit proves successful, as the Alpha is hell-bent on protecting Louis (even from himself) and keeping him _‘safe and healthy’._

There isn’t even a moment’s hesitation before Harry says, “Okay. Alright, let’s go then.”  

As the Omega drags the Alpha away from the house, Harry calls, “ _Hello, Jay, looking lovely as ever!”_  

Frowning at that, Louis lets Harry help him into the vehicle without commenting. Once they’re in motion, Louis crosses his arms over his chest and turns to the window, remaining in that posture the entire ride, silently fuming. 

With each passing minute, the Omega’s fury solidifies; this much is clear, Harry Styles is in direct line of his fire. 

 

∞∞∞               

            It’s only minutes into that drive that Harry’s emotions shift and waver dangerously. His vision flashes a forbidding crimson as his hands threaten to snap the steering-wheel. Inside, his Alpha rages without reason, seeking blood.

Except this obviously isn’t _his_ rage, which isn’t a surprise, as Louis hasn’t made a sound since arrival, strictly facing the window with his little hands balled into equally as small fists on his lap.

Distantly, the Alpha wonders how the boy can possibly harbor so much anger in _such_ a tiny body. Then again, anything is possible.

Without speaking, Harry decides on the simplest _acceptable_ restaurant that comes to mind, the one Zayn’s especially partial too, on the fringes of town. Once the Alpha has killed the engine, Louis– _very bravely–_ exits, slamming the door shut behind him.

 _Unacceptable,_ his Alpha snarls, furious–even more so anxious over the potential threats the outside world poses, especially towards _his_ Omega.

In seconds, Harry storms to his side, grasping his arm, conjuring a calmness that he does not feel into his voice, “Don’t do that again, Louis, _ever._ ” 

Raising his face, Louis hisses, voice scissor-sharp with anger, “Don’t boss me about, Harry, _ever._ ”

Ironically enough his words from the night before have come back to haunt him. Though, even with those words, Louis doesn’t move–perhaps sensing that Harry’s control is hanging by a loose thread.

With a calming breath, Harry smiles blandly, “Hmm, someone’s crabby when they’re hungry.”

“Or _maybe,”_ the boy seethes, gaze stormy, “a certain Alpha is just an absolute _twat.”_

“Enough,” Harry snaps, voice unintentionally deep with an Alpha’s timbre, “Shall I remind a certain Omega who’s in control here?”

Stubborn-as-ever the boy fights submission until his breathing is slightly labored, eyes glazed over with regret. “N-No,” the Omega finally whispers bleakly, “You’ve made it clear enough…”

“Let’s go then,” his Alpha remains inert, satisfied even as Harry is floored by the lack of response.

Wordlessly, Harry keeps his distance with only a hand placed on the small of Louis’s back, trailing their hostess. As requested, they’re escorted to the more private section.

Once Louis is seated, the Alpha joins, waiting expectantly. Just when the Omega opens his mouth, their waitress approaches, an Omega, by the looks of it, “Hello, I’m Sarah and I’ll be serving you this afternoon. Have you–Harry Styles?”

 _Jesus Christ, does it_ matter?

“Indeed,” the Alpha nods, staring pointedly at Louis, whose eyes remain downcast.

“I’m _such_ a huge admirer! Your father is such an _amazing_ Council leader!” _If only the idiot could be_ such _an ‘amazing’ Father, too._

Attempting to be civil, for Louis, Harry manages _not_ to interrupt, until Sarah continues to prattle on after five minutes–his patience only runs so deep, “Right, I’d like to order now.”

And goes onto glancing at the winery list, choosing the most expensive, figuring, by its cost, the wine is brilliant. Sarah, whose face has fallen, reluctantly turns to Louis who mumbles, “I’ll…um, have the same, please.”

Once Miss-Overly-Excited takes the hint and scurries away, Harry clasps his hands over the table and leans forward, murmuring, “You drink?”

“Why, yes, Harry, I do. Doesn’t everyone?” Louis starts, seeming to have recovered his spark. “You know, water _does_ make up seventy or so percent of the human body and–,”

“Louis,” the Alpha murmurs, smirking, “You’ve quite the mouth on you.”

“You’ve given me the perfect opportunity to make use of it,” Louis murmurs, coquettish mouth curving into a rueful smile.

“Oh, no, there are many ways to make better use of such a mouth,” Harry drawls, watching as the Omega’s teeth close over his bottom lip and his hands fiddle with the table-cloth nervously.

“You say those things on purpose,” Louis accuses, blushing scarlet.

“And it’s only ever true,” Harry reminds softly, before, “But, let’s subside this conversation to focus on more pressing matters...I’m asking, nicely, mind you, what I’ve done to upset you?”

Seemingly speechless, _a feat,_ the boy shakes his head.

“Louis, surely there is _something_ you wish to say. Just a moment ago you were the epitome of verbose _._ ”

Scowling, his smart-mouthed Omega raises his face, and this time his words flow more swiftly than usual, “Epitome of verbose? Harry, I could say the _exact_ same for you. As my Mum claimed–once she finished her investigation, that is–it was _you_ who told her about the Paris.”

Stunned into fleeting silence the Alpha studies the boy in this light–the light of his _temper–_ watching as the outrage in those cerulean eyes fades into hurt. “Oh, love,” Harry breathes, understanding. “I hadn’t…Louis, sweet heart, I didn’t realise you hadn’t told her. I assumed, stupidly, when she told me how stubborn you were being, she meant the Paris situation.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Louis grumbles, voice small and feeble, though he doesn’t manage to continue as the waitress returns with their drinks.

“Here we are,” the female murmurs, that obnoxiously excited smile reappearing. _Christ, she’s annoying._

Oblivious to his brooding gaze, Miss-Overly-Excited inquires whether they’ve decided on their meals. More than restless to be alone with Louis again, the Alpha mutters, “No, thank you.”

When, seconds later, Harry doesn’t even glance in her direction, the waitress sighs and makes a quick exit, promising ( _oh goody)_ to return momentarily.

“Louis, I’ve…Jesus, have I hurt your feelings?”

Without raising his gaze from the table Louis nods a little. Cursing, Harry speaks quietly, evenly, _sincerely,_ “I’m…I’m sorry, Louis. Don’t think I would _ever_ force your decision. You know I didn’t…”Except, obviously, Louis _doesn’t_ know.

“I’m overreacting, causing more trouble than it’s worth,” the Omega mumbles, shrugging.  

“No. No, Louis,” Harry insists, smoldering gaze willing his Omega to realise this, “Your feelings are _always_ warranted and even when I don’t agree I _never_ won’t listen or attempt to understand, at the very least. But, love, I’m as new to this as you _…_ You’re going to have to help me _listen.”_

Tentatively, the Omega nods, a small, shy smile hinting at the corners of his tempting mouth.

Shamelessly, the Alpha stares, before murmuring, “Am I forgiven then?”

Now those strawberry coloured lips curve and soften into the smile that– _selfishly–_ his Alpha never wants to see directed at anyone else. In fact, Harry wants to believe every smile that graces Louis’s lips belong to him. “You _really_ have to ask? Of course I forgive you, big mouth.”

“Speaking of mouths,” Harry begins–smirking devilishly. “Is it time for a lesson on the myriad of uses for such a smart-mouth?”

Almost effortlessly, their conversation ripples and shifts into their usual banter, their _usual_ connection. Too soon, the waitress returns ( _luckily for her,_ Harry’s mood is much more tolerant _)_ and the Alpha even manages to acknowledge her presence with a fleeting glance. Funnily enough, that turns out to be a _mistake_ ( _talk about manner-manual)_ as the female, for a worrying instant, looks like she might _swoon._  

Mercifully, Miss-Overly-Excited seems to reawaken, “ _Oh._ Um, my apologies, um, has a decision been made?”

Without naming his choice, the Alpha murmurs, “Lou,” before indicating to his Omega. Grudgingly the female turns to Louis, who requests a light salad–which the Alpha frowns at, but doesn’t comment, opting to order instead.

Once the waitress leaves, Louis extends his hand until making contact with the wine glass, sipping at the liquid hastily. At first taste, the Omega sputters, “ _Wh-at?”_

 “Pouilly Fumé,” despite the smug smile on his lips, Harry maintains a matter-of-fact tone. 

Face scrunched cutely in disgust, Louis mumbles, “It’s so… _strong.”  Ah, love, you’ve not tasted Whiskey…_

“Actually, this is fairly decent,” the Alpha tells him, “You’re new to the taste of alcohol, yeah?”

“A bit,” the boy admits, dropping his gaze self-consciously.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Lou. For my own selfish reasons, I’m exceptionally pleased. Besides, alcohol isn’t exactly _healthy._ You should have something else.”

Pursing his lips, Louis swallows, before murmuring, “No, this is fine, thanks.”

Sipping at his glass, Harry watches Louis–more fond than irritated by the boy’s sudden stubborn-streak, it only means the Omega is becoming comfortable–deciding to post-pone the Paris conversation until after they’ve eaten and his energy has been restored.  For now, the Alpha allows himself to relax, toying with Louis’s significantly small, thin fingers.

 _So tiny,_ he thinks in awe, _everything about this boy screams ‘I-need-protecting’_

“I think,” Harry starts unceremoniously, not very interested, “Zayn’s become quite fond of your Alpha.”   _Can’t imagine why._

Noticeably, Louis stills, then, “Liam is _not_ my Alpha. And, explain the evidence behind this thought?”

Pleased by the way Louis disowns the Alpha with his dismissive sentence, Harry complies, “For starters, _Zayn–_ the most indifferent Omega I know–can’t say the blokes name without _blushing._  Quite like a smart-mouthed Omega I know.”

Grasping the challenge in his words, Louis huffs, “I can _too_ say your name without blushing!”

Grinning wickedly, extremely thrilled and impatient to watch the boy’s lips form his name, Harry breathes, “Prove it.”

As expected, the boy doesn’t disappoint–catching his bottom lip between those sharp canines, Louis peeks up at him through those thick lashes ( _for affect, the Alpha gathers, as the boy caught on quickly to what made Harry go mad with want)_ and breathes, “Harry, Harry, Harry…”

And his heart–reacting to his name on Louis’s lips–begins to race, his blood boiling with _need,_ the oxygen having been replaced with the Omega’s intoxicating scent. “Again,” the Alpha breathes, staring, transfixed as his cock strains against his zipper.

“Harry,” Louis whispers, aware (how could anyone miss it?) of the lust roaring within him–vaguely, Harry notices the boy’s pink cheeks, “My Haz.”

Hissing, the Alpha tenses, grinding his teeth against a growl. Those words, those lips, this _boy_ overwhelms him in ways thought to be impossible.  Keeping him seated: his Alpha’s disgust at having the Omega without _bonding_ him proper–which isn’t possible unless the Omega receives Council approval before _eighteen_ –which is going to be a problem, especially with his bloody Father.

Averse to that looming-issue, Harry murmurs quietly, “You’re blushing. It’s lovely.”

Before the Omega can answer, Miss-Overly-Excited returns, and judging by the silence she’s given up on trying to catch his attention.  Without touching his food, Harry gazes at Louis, who twirls his fork in the salad–none ever actually making it into his mouth.

“Hmm, weren’t you famished mere hours ago?” the Alpha teases.

Sipping at the wine, Louis shrugs, “You’re watching me. I can’t eat when you’re watching me.”

Frowning, Harry centers on the bond, only to find a jumble of feelings that would take ages to even outline.  “Does it make you uncomfortable?” he asks.

“Actually, it makes me clumsy,” the boy explains, “Next, I’ll accidently shove the fork up my nose or find pieces of lettuce in my hair.” And then Louis giggles–the Alpha floods with something warm and foreign, stunned by the intensity of the feeling but accepting it gladly.

“I don’t think that’ll be an issue with a nose so small, Lou.”

Looking unconvinced, the Omega shakes his head, “Never say never.”

“Please eat, Louis,” Harry murmurs, promising to keep his eyes strictly on his plate. No cheating. Except, the Alpha _does_ cheat, though Louis seems to know whenever his eyes stray, reminding, “You promised,” until the Alpha grunts and continues to eat.

Once his plate is emptied, and Louis is about halfway through his _salad, (_ unbelievable, the dainty air this boy takes on, even whilst _eating_ ) the Alpha gulps down an additional glass of wine before daring to trek on hazardous grounds.

“By any chance, have you come to a decision?”

Sighing, Louis shrugs, looking glaringly helpless–the look instantly doesn’t sit well with Harry. “Please, Haz, don’t. Not right now…” _Then when?_ the Alpha thinks, beyond frustrated.

With a curt nod, Harry waits until Louis has finished (plate only partially eaten) before asking, “Dessert?”

Biting his lip, Louis whispers, “I won’t be able to finish it. Share with me?” And his hesitant, careful tone suggests he’s expecting Harry to refuse out of spite, or lash out any second.

“Well, since I took special care to bring you to a relatively simple restaurant, I’ll need to test their dessert quality. Might as well see what they’ve got to offer, yeah?”

“Well,” the Omega nods eagerly, “dessert _is_ the most important meal of the day after all.”

Quirking an eyebrow at the menu, Harry murmurs, “According to whom, might I ask?”

“Me.”

“Ah, then it _must_ be accurate,” the Alpha concedes dubiously before racing through the list of sweet treats. In the end, Louis declares brownies the victor, as there’s a scoop of iced cream with it and “double the sweets, Harry, don’t let this opportunity pass us by.” Even irritated, the Alpha can’t seem to refuse him–can’t seem to remain angry with this sweet, innocent Omega.

When the treat arrives, Harry feeds most to Louis, claiming there is enough for two–extremely pleased to be caring for his Omega. When the boy is finished, the Alpha pays the bill and leads them out, when Louis’s phone pings in announcement.

Though Louis doesn’t seem to care, Harry shakes his head, “Louis, answer that, it could be Jay.”

A feeling the Alpha has become all-too comfortable with these past months flares up in the Omega, who places a hand on his hip, snapping, “I doubt it. She’d much rather chat with you, as the two of you are best mates out of the blue.”

Grinning, Harry wraps an arm around the pouting Omega’s waist, and leans in close to breathe into Louis’s ear, “I’d much rather chat with you. You’ve beguiled me, sweet boy. Now, don’t be difficult, and do as I say.”

With a shaky breath, the boy nods, retrieving the device from his bag and going through the thing until a robotic voice begins to read;

_From: Irish-Bowl-of-Smiles  
‘Lou-is! @ the park near yours! Come see us, u twat.  & bring Harry, Zayn’s with us!’_

Muffling his laugher into Louis’s throat, Harry murmurs, “Irish-Bowl-of-Smiles, hmm?”

“Hush,” the Omega scolds, then, he sighs, “I suppose we should join them, yeah?”

_But you won’t join me?_

Glowering, the Alpha straightens, distancing them and grabbing the boy’s hand only as Louis continues obliviously, “First, we’ll need to stop at mine and…”

Staring at nothing in particular, Harry doesn’t interrupt the Omega’s rambling, because there isn’t any reason for Louis to be aware of his emotions–after all, Alpha’s are _heartless._  

Except, his Alpha reminds cruelly, towards their Omega’s.

**∞∞∞**

            When the Alpha doesn’t object to joining the lads Louis is tremendously relieved. It’s been a while since they’ve all gotten together, outside of school that is. Though, secretly, the Omega realises the boys–especially Zayn–will keep Harry busy and away from the Paris issue. And, right now, Louis needs to think without distractions (the Alpha’s remarks, his gaze, his _presence_ )

In the end, they spend half-an-hour at his house–with Harry and Jay in conversation Louis decides there isn’t a reason to rush.

Upstairs, Louis swaps his button-up with a simple white v-neck, and his plimsolls for scuffed Vans before rummaging through his wardrobe to retrieve a thin coverlet. Grabbing his Braille version of _‘Their Eyes Were Watching God’_ (required for English) and his iPod (which was relatively easy to figure out) Louis bounds down the stairs, startled when two hands find his waist.

Louis gasps, his heart leaping in his throat, “You _scared_ me! Oh, my God, I might’ve had a heart-attack!”

“You didn’t,” the Alpha laughs, not even pretending to sound sorry as those hands tug Louis forward, down the remaining steps, “I would’ve heard that.”

On his feet, the Omega rolls his eyes, but grabs the Alpha’s outrageously large hands in his own, dragging the bloke out the front door and down the drive.  When Louis continues on the sidewalk–completely ignoring Harry’s ( _flashy_ , he’s sure) vehicle–Harry asks, “You know where we’re going?”

Grinning at the Alpha’s suspicious tone, Louis replies pertly, “Of course.”

“I’m relieved,” Harry decides, slowing his pace, “Cause someone ought too. And I’m shit with directions so it best be you, kitten.”

With his heart almost strangling him–because it’s in his throat trying to escape from his mouth–Louis evades the Alpha’s probing gaze,  overwhelmed by affection welling up inside him, even as he struggles to believe an Alpha would trust him with anything, let alone _directions._

 _If you behave,_ his Omega snaps–outraged by his earlier behaviour, _he might even keep us forever._

Unable to find his voice, Louis continues, stopping whenever Harry squeezes his hand, murmuring explanations, like ‘car’, ‘bike’, ‘wonky rock’ or even ‘this is longer than ten minute, you little lie.”

Alright, it’s _fifteen_ minutes, so what?  

Soon, exactly _five_ additional minutes soon, Louis recognises the accent to Niall’s complaints, “ _My God,_ Joshua, could you kick a bit harder? Now I’ve gatta run in the _bushes,_ again!”

When the Omega’s too-be-mate apologises, Harry chuckles and Louis smiles, pleased to listen in on the couples squabbling, but Niall seems to catch sight of them, as the Irish lad screeches, “Lou! Harry! There you twats are! For a second we thought you really wouldn’t show!” 

Sheepish, Louis waves a bit, though Harry is equally as loud, “It’s nice to see you too, Ireland!”

Quietly, the Omega tugs at the Alpha arm, requesting, when Harry complies, that the Alpha set down the coverlet (to the _far, far_ sidelines, as Josh really _is_ that horrible at footie and Louis recalls receiving several bruises–having underestimated the Alpha’s crap coordination). Then, Louis drops to his knees, plucking his book from his bag and flattening on his tummy, smiling up at where he hopes the Alpha stands–who’s gaze causes goose-bumps to rise on his arms, “It’s impolite to stare, Harry.”

“And it should be illegal to look so stunning, Lou-Bear.”  _Stunning? In what world?_

Grimacing, mostly at the pet-name, Louis doesn’t speak–as the others are suddenly swarming them.

 “Hey, Lou,” Liam greets him.

“Little one,” Zayn’s voices–which, _what?_  

A little noise of shock escapes the Omega, whose murderous gaze seeks out Harry–daring the Alpha to speak.  “Harry Styles! You _told_ him!” Louis exclaims between clenched teeth.

“Ouch,” Zayn yelps, “’S not my fault! You’re the idiot who didn’t warn me _not_ to bring it up!”

Someone growls menacingly–thinking Harry is upset with him, Louis flinches–though it’s _Liam–_ his composed, passive best mate, “Don’t touch him, Styles.”

 _Wow,_ Louis thinks, stunned because Liam Payne has _never,_ in all the year’s Louis’s known him, _growled_ at anyone. In fact, the boy recalls the Alpha stating how “ _absurdly barbaric”_ growling was.

Though his Alpha is seemingly unfazed, murmuring–to Zayn–, “I didn’t think it needed to be said! Jesus, Z, _must_ I spell _‘obvious’_ out to you?”

And, despite the warning in those words, Zayn _laughs–_ a whimsical sound that Louis frowns at, once again wondering _why._ Why the Alpha hasn’t _courted_ him…because the Omega is _perfect_ in every possible way, even his _laugh_ is pretty.

Sighing, the Omega begins to run his fingers over the careful patterns, not really forming the words in his head, too gripped by the vicious emotion that’s plagued him these last weeks–a tangle of pain and rage and desire and despair.

Both unaware and indifferent to the Omega’s sensitivity, the group keeps up their banter until Niall’s sharp voice halts their laughter and Louis’s thoughts.  “Come on, idiots, let’s play! Harry, I’m going on a whim and putting you on Josh and Liam’s team. Zayn, like before, is with me.”

“Lou,” the Irish Omega’s tone softens considerably, “You’re the designated cheer-leader! Pick your side?”

Louis smiles, pretending to think before calling, “I choose the…ZAYNIALL army!”

Like children, the two Omegas go wild, howling and cackling like idiots as Louis giggles, used to Niall’s eccentric behaviour, though Zayn’s does surprise him. Only a bit, as Niall tends to bring out _everyone’s_ wild-side, even Liam.

Niall–the most sport-dedicated in their group–begins to go through the rules when Harry crouches at his side, “I don’t like this,” the Alpha’s voice is deliberately hushed, “Leaving you behind, I mean…”

“You’re not leaving me behind, Harry,” Louis murmurs, “I’m right here, waiting. Now, shoo, I need to read.”

“At least,” the Alpha starts, that award-winning grinin his voice, “kiss me good luck?”

“You’re not even on my _team,_ Harry,” the Omega sighs, but leans in Harry’s direction nonetheless.

So gentle, as if Louis were made of the thinnest glass, long fingers stroke his cheek–which heats underneath the contact.

And the Alpha kisses him–lips warm, careful and achingly _light._

Heartbeat erratic, head spinning, Louis returns the kiss a-bit-too eagerly. In seconds, those large hands cup his cheeks, holding him fast as Harry ends the kiss, “Your enthusiasm is going to become a problem,” the Alpha breathes, before refocusing– _yes,_ the Omega sighs–on the boy’s slightly swollen lips, just-barely brushing over them once, twice, a third time, before laughing at Niall’s comment (that Louis’s missed).

Then, with a throaty chuckle, the Alpha leaves Louis to recover as the game begins. Reading, Louis doesn’t pay much attention, occasionally throwing up a fist when Niall or Zayn makes a goal, chirping with the appropriate amount of enthusiasm, “Go, team!”

By the time Tea Cake has gone mad with rabies, Niall shouts, “It’s the Irish charm! Don’t be sore losers!”  Intrusively (Niall doesn’t believe in _boundaries)_ the Omega plops down beside him and wraps an arm around Louis’s shoulder.

Disgusted, Louis struggles, shrieking, “Ugh–Josh! Get ahold of your beast!”

With a deep laugh, the Alpha tugs Niall, whose shouting profanities, to his feet. With a grudging groan, the Omega murmurs, “Fine, be that way, cuddle with that sorry excuse for a footie player, traitor!”

“I’m with Niall on that one, Lou,” Zayn interjects, “This time the leprechaun isn’t speaking out of his arse. Harold, here, really _is_ possibly the worst footie player in history.”

“Heeeey,” Harry complains, taking Niall’s spot beside Louis–who sticks his tongue out at the lot of them.

“Don’t talk about my Grizzly-Hazza-Bear that way! He doesn’t need to kick a footie about to meet my needs.”

“ _Needs?”_ Niall chokes, bursting into hysterics, “You have needs _,_ do you?”

“Grizzly-Hazza-Bear? That’s _rich_ ,” Liam joins in–the traitor.

“Styles,” Zayn murmurs, sounding infuriatingly amused, and Louis may or may not shoot him a glacial glare, “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft?”

“I can still kick your arse, Malik,” his Alpha fires back, cool and level. This time, Liam remains silent, either assuming Harry isn’t serious or missing the remark–both seem a bit farfetched, Louis thinks.

Even so, nobody _shuts up,_ and Louis is blushing bright red, hiding his face in his book and muttering, “Okay, Harry, kick their arses now.”

“With pleasure,” the Alpha purrs in his ear, before declaring to the idiots, “ _Rematch!”_

And, well, the next game isn’t exactly successful either–as Harry loses, again. But, Louis doesn’t care, standing and bounding into Harry’s waiting arms, brushing the damp curls from his forehead and mumbling, “Still my Grizzly-Hazza-Bear.”

Somehow Louis ends up tucked into Harry’s side as the three–Harry, Zayn, and Niall–argue about bias and some other rubbish. Realising this might last a while, Louis drifts to the coverlet, smiling when Niall speaks again, “Oh _, come on_ , Styles, admit it already, Louis could put up a better game than you.”

“Alright,” Josh– _finally–_ ends it, “That’s enough, Ni, we’re expected home soon. Best be off.”

With a cheery “ _see ya lads”_ from Niall,the two start in the direction of the lot. On that thought, Liam and Zayn claim to be “ _in need of showers”_ and leave–though Louis has no idea where those two set out, they simply depart.

On the coverlet, Harry rolls, propping on his elbows and murmuring, in a facetious voice, “Alone at last.”  “Ugh–the horror,” Louis teases, then blurts, “I’m sorry. About what I said earlier–you’re not a twat. I was just upset…and, like, those words have been eating at me all day. I shouldn’t insult you when I’m angry…It’s like, abusive.”

Snorting, the Alpha shakes his head, “I can handle rough-play, love. You’re not abusive. You couldn’t hurt a fly, Lou, let alone _me._ ”

“No, its fine,” Louis says–thoroughly unimpressed, “Go ahead and ruin it with your egotistical customs.”

In response to his words the Alpha lets out a boyish laugh, bringing his arms around the small Omega’s shoulders and trapping him in an embrace. “ _Ew!”_ the boy screeches, struggling, “Harry! Harry Styles! _Stop it right–!”_

Without warning the Alpha’s lips envelope his, owned _him_. Stunned, the Omega goes plaint as Harry’s tongue sweeps out against his lips–and gasping, Louis begs him in.  High, bright flames ignite _everywhere_ as the Alpha fills his mouth, stroking the most sensitive spots and retreating only to return.

A frantic, gnawing _craving_ rages within him as the Omega, responding to the riveting sensation, to the way Harry’s mouth slants over his _again,_ whines, inhaling ragged breaths. 

The once feather-light kisses now brutalize the Omega’s fervent mouth and the sensation is so sweet, so intense, so– Groaning into Louis’s mouth, the Alpha freezes, bringing the kiss to an abrupt end as Louis clings to the solid muscles of his biceps, needing the support.

_I could kiss him…forever.  I want him to kiss me forever._

“So,” Harry begins–voice deep and coarse and so, so masculine, “How’s the book?”

With a small, breathless giggle, Louis collapses, a bone-less heap on the coverlet. “You…You can’t _kiss me like that,_ and ask me about a book, Haz. I can’t even... _talk,_ let alone _think,_ especially not about some book.”

“Must not be a good enough read, then.”

Shrugging, Louis manages to sit up, murmuring, “Take me home, Styles.”

Once the Omega’s belongings are packed, Harry twines their fingers as they start towards his. The short distance passes in hushed, barely-contained happiness until they’ve entered the drive.

Abruptly, the Alpha’s steps halt, and confused, Louis mumbles, “Why’re you stopping?”

“I have to take care of some things,” the Alpha starts, and irrationally the Omega begins to panic– thoughts stunned into inactivity.

“You’re leaving? But…” 

“Louis, relax,” Harry commands, his voice deceptively soft, “I can come back. Would that be better?”

“Please,” Louis mumbles, hands tangled in the Alpha’s shirt, “Please, come back.”

“You don’t have to beg, kitten, I’m more than willing to come back,” wary amusement colours his tone, “Just, breathe, yeah? And wait for me.”

Frowning, the Omega inhales deeply to prove he’s listening, even as Harry pries his hands from the shirt. Wordlessly, the Alpha unlocks the door and firmly places his hand on the handle, before murmuring, “Don’t miss me too much.” And then he is gone.

Floundering, Louis stumbles inside, toeing away his shoes before wandering towards the kitchen, where it’s the noisiest. The disappointment must be written on his features because Jay exclaims, “Boo! Where’s Harry? How was your date?”

“Oh, um,” the Omega mumbles, taking a seat on the island-stool, “He left.”

“So soon? That’s strange…I thought he’d be staying for supper.” _He’s coming back,_ the Omega snaps inwardly, but swallows the defensive answer and mutters, “There’s something that he needed to take care of.”

“Well, where did he take you this time? I swear that Alpha is spoiling you rotten.”

This time the Omega has to work to keep the irritation from his voice, “We went to lunch and then we met up with the lad’s and played footie.”

Louis distracts his Mum with flattery, always an excellent ploy. “What are you cooking? Smells lovely.” Mercifully, his Mum takes the hint and doesn’t touch the Harry topic again, though she does slyly mention the breathtaking views of Paris and the restaurants, experiences, etcetera, etcetera.

With shrieks and giggles, Phoebe and Daisy come scuttling into the kitchen, “Lou! Lou! Where’s Curly? We want Curly!” _Don’t we all?_

“Curly is busy right now, darlings,” the Omega coos sympathetically.

Interest gone astray Daisy scampers back up the steps, seemingly as upset over the fact that Harry isn’t around as Louis is. Much more tamed, Louis opens his arms to Phoebe, who embraces him gladly.

“And how was your day, Princess?” Quietly, Phoebe begins to ramble on and on about her play-date until Louis is called to help set the table. 

Once supper is over, Louis and Jay start with the dishes–Louis dries.

And when that’s finished the Omega decides somehow, someway thoughts of Harry Styles _will_ be banished from his mind. For now at least.

 

∞∞∞  


            Through the weeks, days, _hours_ , the Alpha has been growing all the more aggressive–to the point where it’s threatening his Omega, which isn’t allowed, _ever._  And there is only one slightly effective method to calm his Alpha, to calm his rampant-hormones (as wanking doesn’t seem to do the job anymore–more so because his desire for a certain, blue-eyed Omega, rather than his approaching rut). So, the Alpha brings his car to a screeching halt in the second-garage, hurrying inside to change into white shorts, shrugging out of his shirt, and replacing his boots with bright-yellow trainers before shoving a headband into his untamed curls.

Then, with the intention of drowning out the world, the Alpha starts up his music (on full volume) and bolts. A whirlwind of emotion–the damned _buzz–_ settles over him, though, in high hopes of expelling these emotions, Harry tests his limits until his skin is sheen with sweat, lungs working and muscles screaming in protest.

And, this is his escape, from reality, from his Alpha and himself.

Unthinking, Harry starts towards Zayn’s house, positive the distance (three miles) will be enough to spend the pent-up energy. Like most times, he’s right–at the door, panting and sweaty, Harry revels in the ache that’s replaced all else, smirking in triumph.

Without bothering to knock (his second-family is out at Wailyha’s recital) the Alpha retrieves the key hidden underneath the Welcome-Mat ( _how original)_ and heads straight to the Omega’s room. Predictable: the door is shut–Harry shoves it open.

Unpredictable: the sight that welcomes him.

Reflexively, Harry whirls in the opposite direction, with the image of Zayn and _Liam Payne_ snogging on the bed the Alpha spends so much time lazing on burns behind his eyes. “ _Fucking Hell!_ What the _actual_ fuck!” 

Disgusted, the Alpha gives them time to gather their wits and hormones before facing them again; throwing his hands up in question. “Jesus, Z, you little slut,” Harry wheezes in attempts to lighten the awkward, tense atmosphere.

 _Wellll,_ perhaps a friendly-insult isn’t the best means to approach an Alpha-Omega-fling-thing. Baring his canines, Liam conceals the Omega–who looks completely _mortified–_ with his body. “Fuck off, Styles. He’s _mine._ My…well, he’s my Omega, I hope…” And the protective Alpha looks to Zayn, who’s smiling _softly_ (well, well, well, the Omega _does_ have an Omega side).

“Yeah,” Zayn breathes– _ugh,_ “Yours.” 

Amidst the _gooey,_ avowal of worship, the two gaze into each other’s eyes–whilst, unmoved, Harry waits for them to realise that he’s still here– _some way to treat your guest!_

An entirely unbearable minute goes by without anything and the Alpha, crossing his arms, storms out, calling over his shoulder, “Come to me when you’ve returned to _reality!”_

 _At last,_ the two emerge from the bedroom; Zayn’s usually-styled hair noticeably ruffled.

Raising an artful brow at the two, Harry murmurs, from where he’s made himself comfortable on the sofa, “Well, hello, nice of you two to join the real world.”

Shooting him a fierce glare ( _Zayn really has returned)_ the Omega mutters, “Ever heard of _knocking?_ Like, it’s not rocket-science.”

Stretching, a Cheshire-Grin upturns the Alpha’s mouth, beyond amused by the couple’s obvious discomfort.

Liam coughs, “Well, um, I’ll call you, Z?”

“Oh, no,” Harry denies, patting the spot beside him in invitation, “You _must_ stay. Saves me a second trip. Let’s chat, shall we? Frankly, I don’t give a fuck, how _this,_ ” he waves a head between them, “happened and I’d prefer not to, yeah?”

Sighing in exasperation, Zayn looks to Liam, “You don’t have to stay, Li-Li, Harry’s just being an –,”

“ _Li-Li?_ This continues to get better and better,” the Alpha laughs, though when the Omega cuffs him, his laughter dies down. Even so, Harry refuses to apologise. “Okay, fine. Ruin the fun. Well, actually, this is about Louis…Here’s the situation…”

Once the Alpha’s finished explaining, the two absorb his words until Liam murmurs, “Alright. We’re in.”

Grinning, Harry claps the other Alpha on the shoulder, about to speak when Liam continues, “On one condition…” _Joy._

Faltering, the Alpha narrows his eyes and waits–Zayn explains, “You’ll never bring up the whole…um, bedroom scene again.”

Smirking, Harry nods and stands, “Consider this an early anniversary gift. You’re welcome. Now, I’ve got an appointment with another, much more entertaining couple. Don’t have too much fun, idiots.”

“Wait,” Liam calls, “We should come with. Josh isn’t the most…like, _welcoming_ of blokes. And he’s bound to get possessive with _you_ about. Besides, Styles, you’ve absolutely no idea where you’re going.” _Good point._

Shrugging, the Alpha mutters, “Whatever. I ran here, so.”

“From the _manor?”_ Zayn gasps, disbelief clouding his chiseled-features–doubtlessly wondering _why_ Harry would feel the need to over-exert himself, not understating that Harry _can’t_ surrender to his Alpha, can’t _have_ Louis in that _way._

“I’m fine, Z,” Harry assures casually–it’s true, he would wait until Louis is ready–forever even.

“Alright, well,” Liam mutters, voice grudging (obviously not pleased with Zayn’s concern– _maybe now the idiot will understand Harry’s point of view;_ ah, karma _)._ “I’m parked down the road.”

Somehow, with Liam in driver’s side and Zayn in passenger, Harry ends up shoving his long, gangly limbs into the small, compact backseat, glaring out the window the entire ride until they’ve stopped at an unfamiliar flat–Niall’s, perhaps Josh’s as well.

Outside, used to caring for Zayn the way an Alpha _should,_ Harry starts towards the passenger, though Liam is already there, holding his best-mate’s waist with extreme care. And the Alpha thinks, hopes, wants to believe, this won’t be like the other times Zayn become infatuated with some low-life Alpha–won’t end up with the Omega drained and numb, won’t end up with an addiction to cigarettes, won’t end up with night’s spent holding the Omega as he _cried,_ won’t end up with Harry’s hands covered in blood…

Deciding _not_ to go there, the Alpha approaches the two from where they stand at the door, a bit surprised when the entrance opens to reveal Niall, smiling brightly, “What’s the occasion, lads! And, Styles, what’s up with the missing shirt! You’re nearly _starkers!_ Some explaining is in order! Come, come! Josh is in the room so…” the Irish Omega rambles on and on and _on–_ zoning out, Harry wonders how Josh manages to keep up, it can’t be _easy._

“Well, we need to talk, and thought face-to-face might be best, with Josh and all…” Liam murmurs, leading Zayn through the house, while Harry, the latest third-wheel, follows awkwardly behind.

“Sure, sure,” the artificial blonde mumbles, “Want something to drink? Water, a pint, whatever is in the fridge?”

Everyone shakes their heads in refusal and Niall shrugs, grabbing two Beers, “More for me.” At the sight, Harry regrets denying–damn it, he _deserves_ a drink being swarmed by these couples and not having _his_ precious Omega to hold and tease and brag about.

 _Such is my life,_ the Alpha thinks sullenly, trailing the trio into the first room up the narrow stairway. The spacious bedroom is quite messy, but charming in a domestic fashion, though Harry doesn’t scrutinize the place, leaning against the wall and greeting Josh with a brief nod.

On the bed, beside Josh, Niall claps, “Alright! So, what’s there to talk about?”

“Well…” Again, the predicament is repeated–by the end, Josh begins to growl, “No. Absolutely _not._ Niall, you’re already slacking in school and–,”

And those words ignite the fire, with a red-faced Omega demanding everyone but Josh “ _get the hell out”_ as the door slams shut behind them. Trapped in the hall, everyone shuffles uneasily, pretending not to be listening to the shouts and muffled _thumps_ (objects hitting the walls–most likely Niall’s attack method) from inside the room until, at last, all goes silent, and Niall exits the room, flushed and naturally chipper.

“Sorry, guys! Josh has something to say,” the Omega states, shoving a reluctant Josh forward.

Sighing, the Alpha mutters, holding their gazes, “I didn’t mean to snap like that. Yeah, whatever, I’m sorry.” 

“And?” Niall prompts.

“And, we’re in. We’ll come,” Josh growls, looking pissed and extremely displeased.

“Brilliant!” Liam murmurs, ever-so-polite, “See you two soon then!”

Understanding Josh’s need to be alone with his Omega, the trio doesn’t linger, promising to text the details before leaving the couple to it (even so, they don’t manage to exit the front door without hearing the Omega’s subdued whines–well, seems Josh is reminding the Omega who’s in charge, and Harry relate to that particular Alpha-instinct).

Once inside the vehicle, Zayn snickers, “And I thought Harold was whipped. Jesus, did you see how Niall set him straight!?”

“I know,” Liam agrees, smiling fondly at the Omega, “Those two are _always_ like that. I suppose, Niall, as the opinionated one, wears the pants in that relationship, Omega or not. Though, when it’s all said and done, it’s Niall hobbling about.”

Gasping, Zayn mirrors Harry’s thoughts, “You mean they’ve…”

With a knowing grin, Liam murmurs, “They’ve been accepted by the English Council ages now. Since Ni was thirteen, I believe– _so_ young, one might ask? Yeah, trust me, we were all skeptical at first, but once we met Josh, and witnessed, first hand, how the older bloke looked at Niall–like gold came from his arse–everyone agreed it was only a matter of time before they bonded. And, not wanting it too be unofficial, their parents requested the Councils opinion and blessings. Alas, Niall’s parents wanted a grand mating ceremony for their youngest, so that’s why it’s taking so long to tie-the-knot, no pun intended. They’re too be mated this December–a Christmas theme.”  

As the Alpha continues to stare at Zayn–who looks awe-struck–the car swerves and Harry snaps, “Eye’s on the road!” Directing Liam’s gaze forward, Harry grumbles, “I _really_ can’t afford to lose my life right now!” _More so, I can’t afford to break my promise!_

“You going home, mate?” Liam asks–so eager to be rid of him that Harry almost wants to _stay_ (and act upon the role of the hated cock-blocker).

“Yeah, Zaynie, be a dear and show the Alpha the way.” Even with the infuriated glare Zayn listens–more than certainly wanting to be alone with Liam again.

At the gates, Liam whistles, “Styles, those rumors don’t do you any justice. This place is _massive.”_

Grinning, the Alpha ignores Liam’s comment, thanks them (for agreeing to his arrangement) and exits the vehicle. Indicating to the Guards to open the gates, Harry flashes his despotic fuck-you smile, entering the manor and rushing into his bathroom to make rapid work of showering and changing into presentable clothing.

Without confirming the time, Harry reverses into the outside world–where the sun has disappeared. _Ah, fuck,_ he thinks, torn between hoping Louis hasn’t fallen asleep and hoping he _has_ because the Omega needs an adequate amount of rest.

Speeding, Harry arrives at Louis’s in fifteen minutes, having stopped to purchase canisters of hot-chocolate and a package of mixed fruits (it shouldn’t be quite so difficult to make it up with those, right?).  What the Alpha’s slightly worried over: his shit balance.

Undeterred, the Alpha climbs up the tree, with the canisters in his backpack. Finally, seated on a thick, sloping branch, Harry relaxes. Despite the terrible lighting, the Alpha makes out the boy’s bedroom.

Grinning, the Alpha shuffles closer to the window.

∞∞∞  


            In attempts to preoccupy his wandering thoughts, Louis goes through his nightly methods with great care. With time to kill, the Omega goes over his body with scented soaps three times before scrubbing shampoo into his hair twice, brushing his teeth, flossing, mouth-wash, and even applying those never-touched-creams. Refreshed and excited, Louis returns to his room.

Determined to wait, the Omega straightens up the room until exhaustion causes his eyelids to droop. Crawling into bed, Louis lets his iPod’s playlist run beneath his pillow, reiterating in his head, _I will not fall asleep, I will not fall asleep, I will not…I will…_

Sometime between those words Louis falls asleep to Beyonce’s sing-song, _‘perfection is a disease of a nation, pretty hurts, pretty hurts’._ Even slipping into unconsciousness, his imagination works all too well, as Louis imagines falling asleep to his Alpha’s voice– _tonight, and the night after, every night…_

Something sharps scrapes along the length of the Omega’s window with a high-pitched squeal, like fingernails against the glass. A light sleeper, Louis scrambles into an upright position, so exhausted and muddled that he isn’t sure whether he’s awake or asleep.

Again, something scratches against his window with that same thin, high-pitched noise. Confused and clumsy with sleep, Louis stumbles from his bed to the window, listening.

Then, as if summoned, the window unlocks, and terrified, his throat closes around a scream. 

“Louis,” a memorable, husky voice calls through the darkness. “Ouch. Damn it, open the window! _Ouch.”_ Louis needs two seconds to shake the horror before managing to move, but then, the boy hurries to the window to show the glass out of the way.

“Harry? What…are you doing?” his voice is an inaudible gasp.

“Move, kitten.”

Gingerly, Louis obeys, scuttling backwards on the carpet and waiting. Then, there’s a muted _thump_ as the Alpha enters, and suddenly, with Harry here, for the second time _,_ while Louis isn’t numb from crying, the room feels so much smaller, so much _warmer._

Shutting the window, Harry begins to speak, “Did I wake you? I didn’t mean to show so late. But, I come bearing–”

Dazed, Louis’s thoughts are unmanageable, and his voice is small, “You came…”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

Unthinkingly, Louis bounces towards the older’s voice, screeching now, _“You came!”_  

With a muffled thud something meets the carpet, though the Alpha catches him around the waist, laughing quietly, “You’re in a surprisingly good mood for someone whose sleep has been interrupted.”

Louis smiles, delighted with the heavenly proximity–though, it doesn’t last, as the Alpha goes tense and retracts his arms, distancing them–his usual reaction when Louis has crossed some imperceptible boundary.  

“Sleep?” Louis mumbles when the Alpha’s hands swathe his own. “Who needs sleep anyways?”

Still smiling, the Omega skillfully plunks down on the carpet, tugging Harry down with him. When the Alpha doesn’t protest, Louis cuddles against the solid plains of his chest–inhaling the scent of body wash and Harry, an inebriating mix.

“You do,” his voice has changed. He’s amused, Louis thinks, and it sounds so…warm– _seductive,_ even. Flushed, the Omega’s breath hitches, though the Alpha only continues, lithe fingers toying with the collar of his oversized jumper–well, _Harry’s_ perfect-fit-for-an-Alpha’s jumper. “I like this. Perhaps too much–but it’s like you _belong_ in my clothes.”

_Heart failure._

Unable to reassemble his thoughts, Louis shrugs, figuring, since he’s just sounding coherent again, the feat shouldn’t be ruined.

“You know,” the Alpha starts, realising Louis isn’t going to respond, “We’re very much neglecting a perfectly comfortable bed.” _The bed?_

An electric thrill hums through Louis–who scrambles to a stance, excited to have the Alpha in his bed–cuddling him into sleep. Though, his Omega elatedly begins to _wonder,_ towards places Louis doesn’t even _understand,_ but the boy hastily drowns the Omega out, face crimson.

Louis tries to be crafty, crawling to the very corner of the mattress, leaving more than enough room. Except the Alpha remains across the room, with no indications of joining…And, well, Louis bites his lip, feigning innocence, “Please? Don’t stay away. Just lie with me…”

With muted, precise footfalls Harry approaches, slowly shuffling onto the mattress. _Victory!_ Louis thinks, realising this is _his_ power, and it’s a hedonistic, triumphant feeling.

On his belly, with his face in his hands, Louis smiles timidly.

“As I was saying before a certain Omega _accosted_ me,” Harry murmurs lightly, “I’ve decided a midnight snack is in order. Hot-chocolate, fruits…all things delectable in life.”

Grinning, Louis shakes his head, “Styles, never once have I thought about having hot-chocolate with _fruits._ You really _are_ very odd.”

“In all actuality, Louis, it’s _you_ who has been missing out.” _Wouldn’t be a surprise._

“Well, maybe so,” the Omega allows. “What sort of fruits do you intend to feed me?”

“Let’s play the Guessing-Game.”

“You’re on,” Louis murmurs– _quite_ confident in his guessing-skills. And rightfully so–the Omega, fruit after fruit, guesses correct, sipping at his lukewarm hot chocolate contentedly. And with every fruit, the Alpha reveals something more about his past, his _now._

And, by the time Harry demands to know more about _him,_  the Omega’s learnt the Alpha’s favourite colours are orange and blue, his age–18, his second name is Edward (Louis couldn’t help but giggle at that; reminded of Twilight), and he’s _quite_ the exhibitionist (which, considering how arrogant the Alpha is, doesn’t surprise him).

Reasonably, Louis returns much the same information–adding little, trivial details–the extreme satisfaction he receives when listening to compositions, the countless arguments and mood swings he’d undergone during his adolescence, his high-hopes for a little brother and the most revealing feature: his impatience over being accepted by the English Council–then, with any luck, mated.

“Louis,” the Alpha sighs–almost remorseful, “It’s against the Council’s belief-structure for an Alpha to see his Omega in bed before mating…”

“Oh,” the boy whispers, cheeks heating up again, “Don’t be sad, Haz. I’m not. I don’t mind. Besides, I’m not so traditional–are you? Just, it’s been a dream of mine to be blessed by the Council…”

Nervously, the Omega brushes his fringe from his eyes, waiting until the Alpha finally speaks. “I was raised on Council Principles. Fucking _loathe_ them to be honest, but the structure has been drilled into my head so I suppose I _am_ traditional. Still, I couldn’t wait so long to see you this way; soft and warm and in my clothes. This is _mine,_ my privilege to keep always.”

Lips-parted, colour rising in his cheeks, Louis struggles to breathe with his heart in his mouth. “I’m…glad,” the boy admits, breathlessly, “It’s strange–missing someone, missing _you,_ actually. With anyone else, it’s not so hard to withstand the distance, but missing you…sort of feels like missing parts of _me.” Stop talking, Louis, stop it–you sound pathetic._

Groaning, the Alpha’s–before Louis can react–lithe fingers circle his wrist to drag him into his lap. Stunned into submission, the Omega remains motionless as Harry’s arms snake around his waist–though the boy’s achingly aware of the Alpha’s strength.

“Louis,” the Alpha breathes, sending shivers down his spine. “You’re going to unman me.”

“I don’t…understand,” Louis whispers–thoughts fading as sleep makes a rapid entrance.

“You’re tired,” Harry states–without answering, “Sleep, little one. And dream of me.”

Though Louis knows the Alpha is right (he really _is_ tired) the Omega still pouts when Harry shifts so that he’s on the mattress, cocooned in blankets. “You’ll explain in the morning, right?” his voice slurs.

There isn’t an answer.

∞∞∞

            Adrift from reality, the Alpha doesn’t realise Louis’s woken–as the Omega has been eerily quiet and motionless the entire night. But, with a startled, _“oh!”_ Louis bolts upright–beautiful in the pale moonlight. Except the Omega trembles uncontrollably–terror surging through the bond.

“H-Harry?” his voice is raspy with sleep–though, staggered with the emotional-overload, the Alpha doesn’t even _breathe._ This doesn’t help, as moisture gathers in the boy’s wide-cerulean eyes.

Anxious, panicked, _terrified,_ Louis croaks again, “ _Harry.”_

“Here, love,” the Alpha manages to breathe, “I’m here. It’s okay. You’re _okay.” Please, be okay._

Without permission, Louis scrambles into his lap–curling up there.

“Nightmare?”

When the Omega nods, Harry asks, “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Louis shakes his head. “Just, hold me, please.”

And, desperate to sooth his Omega, Harry complies, bringing his arms around his thin waist and crushing the boy to his chest, allowing the sweet scent of flowers to sooth his own nerves. Ever-so-slowly the Omega relaxes, until becoming restless and squirming in his lap.

“Harry?” the boy breathes softly–the sound makes the Alpha’s heart accelerate, “Haz? Hazza-Bear?”

Harry sighs, “Louis. Lou. My little kitten _._ ”

“You are _terrible_ at comforting those in need.”

“You take that back!” the Alpha gasps.

Giggling sweetly, Louis shakes his head, “Never.”

 “This means _war,”_ Harry growls roguishly, pinning the unsuspecting Omega on his back–running his fingers up and down his sides. Thrashing, the Omega laughs, breathtakingly beautiful, with his porcelain skin and flushed cheeks and sweet smile and messy chestnut wisps fanning around him, “Harry! Haz, no! Stop!”

Smirking, the Alpha refuses to listen, whispering into the small, withering boy’s ear, “First, take it back, my sweet, beautiful Omega.”

Louis shakes his head, hissing between giggles, “You’re…so… _mean…_ Wh– _Harry,”_ this time his voice takes on a frantic edge and without warning the melancholy, the _terror,_ returns with a vengeance. All movement comes to an immediate halt.

“Harry,” the boy’s cries–tears glide soundlessly down his cheeks–the sight, the sound, the _feel,_ drives some torture-device through his chest. “Don’t go, Harry. Please, please, don’t leave me…”

“Louis,” the Alpha rasps, horrified and _frantic_ to provide his Omega some sort of comfort. “What do I need to do, baby?”

“Stay,” the Omega rushes forward– hands fisting Harry’s shirt, “Stay with me. Just, don’t _go_ to Paris. Or anywhere without me.”

At the words, in realisation, Harry stills, reeling.  “Oh, love,” these words only make the situation worse as Louis curls into a small, achingly tiny ball. 

“Louis…”

No response–only muffled sniffles.

Hesitantly, the Alpha pulls Louis’s arms from his knees and drags him into an embrace–where the boy cries into his shirt, clinging to him as Harry tries to think beyond the oppressive sadness, tries to think at all.

When his sobs have turned into snivels, Louis whispers, “I-I’m sorry…”

“There’s no reason to apologise, Louis. Just…Come. With. Me.” 

This time there isn’t an instant _no–_ which must count for something the Alpha thinks, driven to continue. “Josh and Niall…and Liam and Zayn intend to come,” the disgust that colours his tone at the mention of the newly-united couple isn’t intentional (but, whatever, shit happens). “And they’re expecting _you_ to join too, Lou. Won’t you? For them?” the desperation begins to ring through his glass-thin tone. “For _me?”_

“You’re making this so _difficult_ for me,” the Omega snivels into his collar. “You know I don’t…I _can’t_ refuse you…”

“Then _don’t._ Don’t refuse me,” Harry presses, gaining confidence, “And I’ll take that as an _‘of course I’ll be joining Harry. Anything for you_ ’”

With a shaky exhale, Louis mumbles–sounding both worn-out and unsure, “Just don’t leave me _,_ Harry Styles.” _Thank fuck I won’t ever have too._ Wordlessly, with one hand splayed on the boy’s waist, the Alpha stretches, snagging his bag from where it lays on the night-stand, rummaging through it until his hand makes contact with his initialed handkerchief (one he doesn’t recall _ever_ needing, nor _using)_.

 “Never,” the Alpha promises, dabbing at those stray tears when dainty hands find his shoulders as those eye’s peek up at him through thick, tear-spiked lashes.

“There, that wasn’t so very difficult was it?” On impulse, Harry dips down to connect their lips momentarily–careful not to overwhelm the boy or himself, because right now, his heart is pounding to an ecstatic rhythm and his Alpha wants to _devour_ the Omega, wants every smile, every tear, every beautiful little bit that makes up the only Omega to have made _more_ possible. 

Instead, the Alpha holds him steadily in the darkness until his breathing has slowed and his emotions have faded with sleep.

“ _Mine,”_ it’s the first time Harry’s allowed the words to be spoken. “You’re _mine_ , always.” 

∞∞∞

            When the Omega rouses the sun has only just ascended in the blue skies. With an adorable snuffle, those blue, blue eyes flutter open.

Beaming brighter than the sunlight, Louis murmurs, “You’re going to have to help me pack.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrightly, I'm very nervous to hear your thoughts!  
> Again, thank you!  
> (fingers-crossed!)
> 
> .xx


	13. Part Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again lovelies!
> 
> So, some things I'd like to say! This chapter was supposed to be the entire Paris trip, but due to the length I've decided to split the chapter into TWO PARTS. I know! Ergh! I hope you all can forgive me! Honest, it's better off this way!
> 
> :) Again, thanks to you all! And much thanks to my lovely Beta again MoonDynasty (smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) You are the best! This girl has been with me through these latest chapters & deserves much praise! :) Also, thanks to my lovely sister (fondlemezayn.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also, to those starting school, or have already started, I wish you all the best of luck and a lovely school year! 
> 
> Well now let's see how it goes, yeah?  
> .xxx

Once night falls an ominous hush descends over the neighbourhood, but it only adds to the Alpha’s anticipation as he clambers up onto the tree–despite having become accustomed to climbing the bloody thing they’re still not exactly on good terms, him and Mr. Kill-Yourself-Trying-to-Climb-Me tree. But, the Alpha feels especially mischievous tonight, as Louis isn’t expecting him and Harry absolutely _loves_ the boys gasp of excitement whenever the Alpha shows up uninvited. A reaction so backwards it ceases to surprise _him–_ ceases to replace the implacable buzz with some warm, elated sensation. Though there isn’t much reasoning behind it the Alpha isn’t dense enough not to notice that only Zayn (or those randoms that the Alpha _refuses_ to have anything to do with) _welcomes_ him this way. And his best mate certainly doesn’t make him warm and _fuzzy_ of all things.

Even so, that isolated, not-to-be-mentioned part within him has long realised and questioned his previous seclusion, is conscious of the emptiness that takes refuge within his chest on those (rare) nights he actually sleeps in _his_ room. It’s not that the Alpha doesn’t notice, more so, he doesn’t care, because he’s grateful and pleased with Louis’s attention–except that part doesn’t think it’s _enough_ to be quietly content, that part wants to make it known that Harry is as afraid of having to let him go (he doesn’t even _understand_ these feelings, but _fuck_ if it even matters at this point…) as Louis is afraid of him leaving.

Mercifully for the both of them Harry is too selfish to leave, too… _lost_ in this boy and his smiles and those _eyes_ and that smart-mouth that sets fire to his insides. There isn’t any chance the Alpha will walk away without losing the scant pieces of him that have managed to continue to function. On an inherent level it’s _impossible_ to even think about letting _go_ evenagainst all the staked up odds.  

So, this is where it leaves him, with the mastered classic perverted-serial-killer act–sliding through an open window stealthily. Entering one limb at a time the Alpha braces himself for that intoxicating, thought-dissolving scent though its effect is muted because the Alpha is staggered by a sight.

Tonight his Omega sits cross-legged at the end of his bed, dressed in worn joggers and Harry’s jumper–the sixth one he’s given–the thin, grey material creating paws over the boy’s fiddling fingers. A small smile plays on the corners of his mouth when the boy raises his face, an artful brow disappearing beneath his damp hair, “You _are_ trying to give me a heart-attack! One way or another.”

“Damn,” the Alpha mutters wistfully–keeping his movements careful so the Omega wouldn’t guess his next actions, “Now how did you possibly know I’d be sneaking in?”

“You’re not exactly _secretive,_ Harry,” the boy simpers–all glowing-smug, “Like _‘I’ll see you very, very,_ very, _soon’_ wasn’t hint enough? I’m beginning to think everyone exaggerates your volatile appeal.”

With a soft, playful growl the Alpha drops his backpack and pounces, managing to make out Louis’s shocked gasp at their sudden airborne travels, crashing into the headboard, knocking it into the wall. All the while, Harry’s arms form an iron cage of protection around the delicate boy so he’s barely jostled–though he still tries to right himself.

Allowing none of that, Harry curls him into a ball against his chest, holding him more securely than iron chains, even as Louis glares over his shoulder in alarm. “How’s that for unpredictable? Didn’t expect _that_ , hmm _?”_

Just as the Alpha catches the muted thuds of someone starting the stairs Louis smiles sweetly, “Well, I _am_ expecting in about two minutes Mum will join this little get together and investigate all the ruckus. So, Alphaboy, I’d advise you _hide_ or ruin the remarkable relationship you two have established. Hmm, unpredictable _that,_ yes?”

“Quite the opposite as I’ve only just gotten comfortable,” the Alpha pouts good-naturedly, creating an insignificant space to nose at the Omega’s jaw, inhaling the potent fragrance.

“Ten seconds, Harry, _go…”_ even with those words Louis tilts his face, baring his throat.

“You sound a bit worried, kitten,” his mouth ghosts over his throat–fighting a smile even as footfalls start the hall. 

“ _Harry,”_ Louis whisper-shouts, this time more anxious than before, “You’re going to get us _caught!”_

At ease the Alpha releases the squirming boy and rises in one fluid movement, speaking evenly, “Alright, alright, so long as you admit I’m the Master of Surprise.”

“What?” Louis squeaks. “Right now? Harry–.”

“Five seconds, Louis,” the Alpha murmurs darkly even taking quiet, nearly inaudible backward steps towards the wardrobe. “Do you really want Jay to know I’m here? I mean, we’re not even _mated,_ but this would surely quicken the process. Hmm, perhaps I _should_ let her know and–,”

“Oh my God, _fine,_ you’re the Master of Surprise, now _go, please.”_

Grinning wickedly, and without time to comment, the Alpha goes for the traditional _hide-in-the-closet-jig,_ disappointed with the originality of such a hiding-spot. Ah, well, Harry thinks, more opportunities will arise surely.

Only seconds pass before the door creaks open and through the wardrobes slight opening the Alpha can see (and hear) the older Omega entering. And the scene unfolds before him.

Attempting to seem focused on arranging the insignificant pile of clothing on his bed the Omega raises his face and _almost_ seems genuinely surprised when his Mum murmurs, “Everything alright in here? The noise all but gave me a heart-attack.” At those words, Harry smiles, biting back laughter; and the humour isn’t lost to Louis, as a flash of amusement flows between them before the unease returns.

“Y-Yeah,” the Omega stutters–lowering his face, “I-I decided there wasn’t…enough s-space to pack on the bed s-s-so I went to um move the luggage to the carpet…but it…fell?”

Leaning in, the Alpha watches the boy’s cheek tinge beautifully with heat, watches as Jay’s equally as blue gaze narrows, flickering about the room before landing on the… _ah, fuck._ There, on the carpet by the window-seat is his black, leather-plaited backpack, flashing like a neon-sigh against Louis’s bright beige walls.

“Is that Harry’s backpack?” the female Omega asks quietly, sharp gaze traveling again, this time with intent.

Louis blanches before unleashing those damned puppy-dog eyes. “W-What? Where?”

Unperturbed, Jay retrieves it, murmuring, “Here, Louis. There something you want to–?”

“ _Oh,”_ the Omega interrupts, “ _That._ Yeah, that’s the um bag I packed my things in s-so when I came up I must’ve f-forgotten to take it back down to him. He–I’ll return it to him tomorrow, I’m sure…” towards the end his voice lowers in defeat. Even the Alpha figures Jay won’t buy into it–his Omega is _that_ terrible at lying–but oddly enough the female Omega only studies the bedroom once again before she returns to the door and pauses. 

“Alright, boo, don’t stay up to late. We can wake up in the morning to finish up. Get some rest. You’ll need it, I’m sure.”

Nodding, Louis manages to smile a bit, waving his Mum off. When the Alpha is positive Jay isn’t listening, and returns downstairs, he emerges from the wardrobe to sit behind Louis’s legs on the mattress, legs in a _v_ so that Omega fits between them. And then–at last–Harry allows himself to laugh, muffling the sound in Louis’s shoulder.

“You’re _insufferable,”_ the boy mumbles, twisting to bat him away half-heartedly. “You left _evidence._ Ought to toss you out the window right now.”

With a somber sigh the Alpha nuzzles the Omega’s temple, breathing, “I wouldn’t have left _anything_ had a certain Omega behaved. And _nope,_ you’re _stuck_ with me now. I’m here to stay.”

With a sigh Louis relaxes against him, nodding thoughtfully, “Be careful what you wish for has never seemed so fitting.”

In spite of the words the Alpha’s shit-eating grin refuses to lose structure as he tips the boy’s face, murmuring, “Louis Tomlinson, are you implying that I’m _unwanted?”_

“Maybe…And so what if I was?” Louis quips, biting his lip against one of those perfect smiles–the one Harry’s worked endlessly to keep there.

“Mmm,” his voice is purposely soft, challenging, as his lips meet the Omega’s humming pulse, enthralled with the silky, translucent skin. “This means I will _have_ to persuade you otherwise.”

As his heartbeat picks up, an uneven drum, Louis breathes, “I-If you _must._ ”

“I’ve never been known to go down,” the Alpha murmurs, shifting abruptly so that Louis ends up beneath him, visibly stunned, wide-eyed, mouth rounded to an _o._ On his knees the Alpha looms, a soundless-war raging within. In that moment, Harry wants to kiss him more than anything–wants to taste that coquettish mouth, wants a cadence of whines to pass between their mouths. “Without a fight,” the words burn with too much fervor as his Alpha blares _claim him, claim him_ and his heart sings _love him, love him,_ with his subconscious on the verge of losing any semblance of sense because there is so much _want_ –and absolutely _no_ outlet.

But the choice is lost when Louis sits up and plants a chaste kiss on his nose.

“W-Wait, please,” it sounds like the breath has been knocked out him, though the Alpha thinks it’s because the oxygen levels suddenly seem dangerously low, “Let’s…Let’s try that again.”

With the little _v_ between his brows again Louis places one small, warm palm over his cheek, testing his position before leaning forward again. And this time his mouth comes into contact with the corner of Harry’s mouth. Unconsciously the Alpha’s lips curve into a smile, parting to comment when the Omega sighs, lowering his hands as his bottom lip pokes out sulkily.

“I can’t even…” his voice trails and wavers into nonexistence–shoulders slumped in defeat and somehow his pout still entices Harry with its pale-pink colour, with the remembrance of its velvet feel and– _listen, you tosser, your Omega is_ talking.

Banishing the thoughts the Alpha catches the end of Louis’s rant, “…you’re so _unaffected_ by me–even with my ruddy attempts to, like, explain how I feel when you’re–when _we’re…_ I-I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel when you’re touching me, or, or…or _kissing_ me…A-And,” the final sentence is laced with longing, “I…I want to please you, Alpha.” _Holy…fuck, what?_

Involuntarily, _stupidly,_ in hopeless attempts to quell the razor-sharp sensation gnawing at his ribs–which ache and contract plaintively around his _lungs,_ to conceal his discomfort with the sudden topic, the Alpha bursts into slightly stressed, cathartic laughter.

Wounded hostility replaces the raw sensation, the hysteria subsides, and Harry risks a fleeting glance at Louis. A storm flashes in the Omega’s irises–the soft colour becomes electric with belligerent upset. “Glad to know this amuses you so much.”

 _Brilliant job Styles, quite the romantic, you are,_ his Alpha–ever-unhelpful–sneers inwardly.

Reining his wildly gyrating mind, Harry tenses, speechless, breathless, _thoughtless,_ perhaps _heartless,_ because the Alpha swears his heart isn’t beating to any further extent. “I’m…Sorry,” he manages, once his breath has returned–heart still nowhere to be found. Somehow, Harry doesn’t feel hollow or empty without the bloody thing–or maybe it’s been missing since before the Alpha could even realise.

In response Louis stands, sure steps rushing in direction of the only exit. At an unsighted velocity, working on some buried instinct, the Alpha rises, catching the Omega’s thin wrist between two fingers; the contact sends electric shocks up his arm, “Louis…”

Without turning to face him the Omega mumbles, voice eerily unruffled despite the scolding-rage roiling within him. “Don’t. Just…give me a few minutes…” _away from you,_ the unsaid words don’t go unnoticed–the Alpha flinches, wants to let him go, _does_ let him go, because the wound is fresh–has been for ages, an old knife piercing his insides, an old knife that’s blade has never dulled, only sharpened with time.

“Alright, okay,” his voice sounds indifferent–stable, even. “I…Should go. Yeah, I should do that.” 

“You…You’re _leaving?”_ Louis asks, finally whirling around–panic flickers through the bond.

Thrown the Alpha pauses to shove a hand into his pocket, unable to keep up with the emotions. “Only for tonight, Lou,” he sighs tiredly. “Rest, love. And we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“So that’s it, then,” the boy seethes–the rage strikes again like lightening, surprising _beautiful_ on Louis. “You’re going to _run_ from your issues now?”

 _Run?_ the Alpha growls defensively at the words.“Louis–,”

“No,” Louis interrupts, stalking up to him, electric-eyed and breathtaking. “Don’t _Louis_ me. You can’t _run,_ not when it’s _your_ fault. You don’t even _care._ You–,”

And the Alpha was prepared to leave, prepared to let the distance burn out the inferno, but those words _bite–_ Harry snaps. Growling fiercely the Alpha grips the Omega’s arms, fury emanating between them, “Don’t _care?_ Fuck. That. Go ahead _kitten_ , call me every name in the bloody book, fight and kick, but don’t _ever_ tell me I don’t care. Because sure I’m shit at showing it, but _you,_ bloody _you_ drive me _insane._ You have from the first second. With emotions I can’t begin to comprehend. Hell, emotions I didn’t know _existed._ If there’s one thing, Louis Tomlinson, it’s that I _care,_ and don’t dare insult me by thinking otherwise.”

With a steadying breath Harry loosens his hands, but refuses to lose the contact. “What is _with_ you?” the Omega demands, tugging at his arms, “You are _so_ frustrating. You can laugh, yeah? You can laugh and _leave_ but I can’t be _angry–_ let me _go_ already!”

“Christ, Louis,” his voice doesn’t sound quite right–frantic and strange, not- _his,_ “ _No._ You’re going to _stay._ You can be angry at me right here, right now.”

Well…those words don’t help _anything–_ in fact those words cause the flames to _blaze._ Within seconds the sensation wisps over his skin, within seconds the Omega begins to _really_ struggle against his hold.

At a loss, Harry falters slightly, muscles bunched defensively, grip steadfast to contain the thrashing. “ _Stop…it,”_ Louis pants, voice raising steadily, “Don’t _touch_ me! Let me–,” gently, coaxingly the Alpha places one hand over the boy’s mouth, momentarily quieting him.

“Hush now,” his voice is rough, breathing slightly labored with the desire beating fiercely through his veins–fueled by months of abstinence. But, oblivious in his kittenish rage, Louis bites–more like _nips–_ the hand over his mouth–teeth sinking into the fleshy part before his thumb. The slight, very slight sting rushes through him–and before Harry’s realised it’s happened the Alpha’s maneuvered them, pinning the Omega to the mattress.

Standing between Louis’s thighs, his _legs,_ the Alpha’s gaze shifts, avoiding the exquisite sight of his Omega splayed beneath him, avoiding the _temptation._ “Please. Please, Louis. Let me explain…” _Let me have you_ his diamond-hard erection fattens impossibly at the prospect.

When the Omega doesn’t respond the Alpha swallows, and for once, doesn’t oppress the feelings, “I’m trying, little one. Just…Weeks ago you told me I terrified you, yeah? Well, sweet boy, _you_ terrify _me._ I’m not used to _this…_ expressing my, um, feelings? Old habits die hard. How I was raised, feelings are _weakness–_ and Alpha’s aren’t meant to be weak, love, it’s only _principle._ But I’m _always_ affected by you, Louis. So affected…sometimes you’re all I think about, all I _know…_ ” the words become whisper-soft, “Jesus, Louis, I _breathe_ you. I would quite literally never leave you, were the choice mine. And I’m sorry I’m shit at showing it.”

And the Alpha wants to regret opening his mouth, wants to regret sounding so _pathetic_ and feeling so damned _much,_ but the thing is, that’s not possible. Because it’s _true–_ indefinably, everlastingly _true_ in ways nothing else has ever been. Because that would _hurt,_ it would hurt more than the knives of denial stabbing relentlessly at his chest.

But, most notably, Harry can’t regret the words because the boy melts beneath him, all Omega-pliant and his joy bursts through the Alpha–who savors the moment of silence, letting the bittersweet emotions rake through his insides.

Tossing an arm over his eyes Louis begins to giggle, but the sound is shrilly, anxiety the silver-lining.

Grimacing, the Alpha thumbs at the corner of his sweet mouth, “Now who’s laughing?” When the Omega continues to giggle Harry twines their fingers and pins their hands to the mattress beside his head. “Answer me.”

“Me,” Louis acquiesces, squeezing his hand pleadingly, “I’m overwhelmed. And clueless as to how I’m supposed to respond to… _that._ ”

“You can always go with your feelings. Reciprocation and all that,” Harry murmurs, tracing his lips now, watching as they tremble and the Omega hums under the attention. _Such a good boy for me._

“I could,” the Omega allows–heartbeat fluttering. “But it’d be quite repetitive, don’t you think? You already know how I feel…”

“Tell me. I want to hear you say it.” A delicious flush spreads over Louis’s cheek and throat but the Omega’s eyes remain open–the words are _there,_ in soft-pools of _blue,_ but the Alpha still cannot manage to make proper interpretations (and it fucking _irritates_ himlike nothing else). “You’re going to have to try harder than that Alpha.”

“Mmm, I’ll wait,” _forever if I have too_ the Alpha adds silently–accepting Louis isn’t able or _ready_ to give up that stability. Shuffling onto the mattress, Harry rests his head on the soft of the Omega’s belly as the boys fingers forage in his unruly mane. “Why do we fight?”

“Because we’re getting to know each other, and you’re an arse,” Louis replies, hoax-sagely.

“An arse?” the Alpha grins, unwilling to contain his amusement.

“Yes,” Louis huffs, as to maintain his irritation–to Harry’s complete satisfaction it’s not working.

“An arse?” he asks again, this time in efforts to repress another smile.

“Don’t make me laugh when I’m put out with you!” Louis hisses, but there it is; that perfect smile, enunciated by his breathless giggles. “Just because there’s this stupid grin on my face doesn’t mean I’m not angry as hell at you,” the boy continues, still trying to suppress his mirth and the Alpha lets his eyes slide shut–wanting to remain here, teasing and light. Except reality calls and (of course) reality is nowhere near perfect, but…with Louis it’s _bearable,_ bright even. So, Harry exhales, long and drawn out, about to speak when the Omega tugs at his hair until the Alpha complies, sitting up.

“Just _don’t,_ ” Louis mumbles, serious, pleading, “Don’t leave me in the dark anymore…It scares me, okay? I don’t want to be the one left hurting after…Don’t hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t,” Harry growls indubitably. “You’re mine– _my_ little Omega…Just, give this time, give _me_ time to adapt and…and you’ll not be in the dark again. Unless you’ve misbehaved, but you’ll be so good for me, won’t you?”

With thick fluttering lashes Louis nods wildly, “Yes…” his voice is feeble– _scared,_ “Yours. Always yours.”

Those words send warm ripples of shock through the Alpha’s body, thinning the air in his lungs. And his gaze gentles, taking in the vulnerability in the Omega’s eyes, the fear in his face, all the Alpha yearns to do is hold him, reassure him. Even so there are things to be established, _issues_ to be set right.

“But, my little kitten,” Harry drawls–responsively, indicating the boy is listening despite the glaze to his irises, those fingers clench in his curls, “I’m not so very patient–I suppose that’s in my blood, and I’m not to be misunderstood–that being said, doubt me again and I won’t be so understanding. Doubt me again and I will give you _reason_ not to.”

Flushed, Louis exhales shakily; tenuous shoulders curling inward, bottom lip between his pointed canines. There isn’t a response. “Still with me?” the Alpha asks, cautious but probing. Still, the Omega doesn’t speak, opting to shrug instead–which could be answer enough, but the Alpha suddenly _craves_ the obedience, just this once.

“Answer me,” it’s only a breath as his fingers trail over his prominent cheekbone.

Seeming to come to the boy blinks and swallows, “Yes–I…Okay, faith…I…I can live with that.”

“And I can live with stretching my patience a bit, with the emotions–the scratching and biting…” lifting their intertwined hands to examine the teeth imprints left behind (welling with pride) before nosing at the boy’s cheek, “but, Louis, you _will_ whine and beg too…” it’s a promise, because the Alpha _will_ have this Omega underneath him, will have him whining at the highest pitch, begging to be taken, will have him thoroughly and _absolutely._ One day.

A small shiver runs through him as Louis croaks, “Just…hold me. I want to be held.”

Swallowing the Alpha nods, urging the Omega onto his back again though he’s unable to shift to his side because the grip in his hair is relentless until Harry gives, sinking forward, still holding most his weight, but not so much because his every muscle, ever plane is met by corresponding curves and softness. Gazing down at him– _watching_ him inhale a sharp breath, lost to the sight of Louis beneath him, their hands locked, his sweet mouth releasing breaths, a flush spreading down his throat.

“You are so beautiful…”

At the words, those cerulean eyes flicker open, his expression turning skeptical. Frowning, Harry sits up, taking him by surprise as his free arm sweeps around his waist to hold him in place. Blunt, well-cared-for-nails clutch the roots of his hair, and they are nose to nose.

“You. Are. Beautiful,” his voice descends a thousand octaves to be met with _denial._ With a glare the Alpha opens his mouth to say God-knows-what when Louis shakes his head, fingers leaving his hair to find his working jaw. “Patience,” he reminds, squeezing the fingers of their twined hands, “This is where I need you to be patient.”

_Patience? To believe that you’re beautiful enough to kill?_

“That’s not–,” he begins to protest but–.

“Please,” the Omega whispers, eyes glittering with innocent insecurities. The word strikes home–straight through his already shot-to-hell heart. “Please, Haz. Faith and patience.”

Loosening his shoulders Harry nods when Louis breathes, “May I?” raising his dainty palm in question. Before the Alpha can even formulate a response cool fingers stroke over his temple and down the slope of his right cheekbone. At the electrifying shock, Harry inhales sharply, shutting his eyes at the intense feel of it–of his Omega’s beseeching touch. With force, and _much_ effort, he resists the urge to take charge, instead allowing Louis to feel him at his own pace. Somehow his breathing remains even, but his control is wearing thin under his whisper-soft touch shooting demands through his entire being.

When those fingers brush over the length of his nose the scent at the Omega’s wrist is so appealing that Harry opens his eyes again, ready to _devour_ him right there.

Except Louis looks so self-conscious and unsure that the Alpha holds absolutely still, so very aware of those fingers trailing from his jaw to his throat, over his clothed shoulders, down the length of his biceps, lingering there as his muscles tense. Almost curiously the boy cants his face, lips pulled up in a small, secretive smile. “You’re still an arse. A handsome arse, but an arse all the same.”

 “Handsome, hmm?”

“Just a tad,” Louis nods as his fingers travel up to Harry’s jaw, trailing once again, then, “Smile.”

Smugly the Alpha complies, grinning wolfishly–those fingers inevitably find the annoying, cherub dents in his cheeks.

“Dimples? That’s extremely unfair–what evil knobhead decided this was okay?”

“Does this mean I’m _extremely_ handsome then?” Harry tries, smirking now.

“Just about,” Louis allows, poking at his dimple one last time before taking back his hands. “But I’m not going to make this whole smirky-Alpha-arrogance issue any worse. Besides, you agreed to help me pack.”

A stranger to the whole ‘think-before-you-speak’ stat the Alpha opens his mouth to tell the Omega he could simply wear _his_ clothing but (at the last second) thinks better of it, making a face and sighing dramatically, “And I was having _such_ fun being praised…”

Untangling their hands, Harry shifts Louis back onto the mattress and rises, ambling towards the wardrobe and humming appreciatively when he realises the entire space is colour coordinated– _very innovative, this is._

In a rush to be done with this and have Louis asleep the Alpha begins to pile articles of clothing in his arms, starting with shirts–mainly blues, having formed a fondness for the colour on the Omega. Resisting the urge to dump the clothing in the suitcase and declare them finished Harry sighs and as an alternative, places them on the bed, where Louis sits cross-legged, waiting with a minute frown.

Once the pile is significantly large the Alpha shrugs out of his heavy blazer, tossing it on the bed to be packed, then removes the rings on his fingers and the watch at his wrist before toeing his worn boots and joining the boy, who’s already started folding (though it’s not going to well as Louis’s head is hung, chewing at his lip– _frustration, embarrassment)._  

“Wait a sec,” the Alpha mutters, snatching the shirt from his hands and sighing, “Louis, there is no _I_ in team, love. You’re supposed to _pack_ the clothing _I_ fold.”

Quirking an artful brow the Omega asks, “And had I wanted to fold?”

“Too bad,” the Alpha says evenly–refolding the shirt before starting on another, smiling to himself as Louis wriggles, leaning into his side and mumbling, “I’m curious.”

Ten shirts down–tons to go, “Go on,” Harry prompts idly piling the tops by colour.

“How does one get…err…promoted to the Council? How did your Dad?”

At the unexpected turn of events his hands falter–ruining the fold so that he will have to start over–though he does his best not to react, answering lightly as possible, “It’s bloodlines, really. The Alpha’s of the strongest from each fraction of the world are chosen, for the lack of better words. And to maintain supremacy they’re expected to mate with the most worthy Omega. It’s not much of a _choice._ You’re either born into it…or not at all.”

“You’re not excited to be an heir to the Council,” Louis surmises, confused.

Once the black shirt is refolded the Alpha shrugs one shouldered, “I’m not interested in having my life dictated. Eighteen years is time enough. But, it’s my place in this world, my obligation to England, so I won’t go against it.”

 _Except...for you I would,_ the thought appears unbidden,  and the Alpha doesn’t want to grasp the idea that he _would_ give it up in a heartbeat; give up all the schooling, give up his status, give up his _morals,_ give up– _enough,_ he thinks angrily, shoving the thoughts into his mental-closet.

Distracting him, a stab of panic streaks through Louis, who blurts, “But–,” Then, seems to think better and shakes his head, curling that-much closer and _smaller_ into his side.

“Tell me, Lou,” the Alpha breathes, dropping the material in his hands to tip the boy’s face so that those depthless eyes are revealed. “What is it?”

With a little sigh the Omega mumbles, “Nothing. It’s nothing…”

 _Measures,_ Harry thinks, _this has to be taken in measures._ “I’m forming an extreme dislike for the word nothing. Know why?”  

“Um…” Louis fumbles, “Why?”

Smiling ruefully, the Alpha finishes the shirts and murmurs, “Because, ironically enough nothing to you seems to always mean _something._ Now, up you go, pack these away.”

Again, the little _v_ appears, but Harry ignores the _what-are-you-on_ look and carefully places the first heap in his arms. “Hey, Haz?”

Situating the next few piles the Alpha hums in question.

“In case, like, um if it helps…–You’ll figure it out. The whole Council craze–don’t even second-guess it, because you’ll be one of the best Alpha’s in the Council…And we–England needs more Alpha’s like you, ‘cause you’re…well, um, you’re you? So, I know you’ll end up charming the pants off all of England anyway.”

Stunned into silence the Alpha processes each word, memorising them to ensure he could _never_ forget. In the past six months, that’s the most Louis has ever let him in–to Hell with the emotions that aren’t freely disputed. And it’s…nerve-racking and _real_ and…perfect. “Only you,” his voice is hoarse, “You’re the only Omega I want to charm out of their pants. Yeah, only you, kitten. And _you_ need to rest. Go on, don’t make me wait.”

This time Louis listens, leaving the bed to kneel at the suitcase and place the pile inside with more care than necessary. More time continues in silence as Harry folds and Louis packs until the clothes are stowed and the boy’s rucksack contains miscellaneous objects that the Alpha doesn't bother to look into or question.

Now, zipping the luggage, Harry notices the Omega’s restless shuffling and casts a sidelong glance as Louis asks–for the third time–“Bedtime?”

“Turn the lights,” the Alpha instructs, and shocking him, Louis lights up, scampering happily to the switch and smiling as the room goes dark. Only seconds pass before his eyes adjust.

“Now bed?” the boy whispers almost shyly, but oh-so-sweet. Something’s shifted, the Alpha thinks, curious as to why those eyes are locked on the carpet. This is _new._

“Now bed,” Harry breathes back, reacting to that _something_ as his arms circle the Omega’s waist, walking him backwards to the bed-frame and gently lowering him onto the mattress, following him down so that they’re lying side by side.

Something about the obscurity causes the flames within to climb higher; the buzz tightens over his skin deliciously. It’s quite possible that he’s not breathing, _suffocating_ even, but it hardly matters because with the shadows dancing along the edges of his vision, his tightly-bound self-control seems to dissolve and Harry reaches forward so that his fingers trace the boy’s sensuous, curing collarbone, following the enticing line until the jumper’s revealing slope ends.

With no control over his actions the Alpha shifts again so that Louis ends up beneath him once again as his hands support his weight, propped on either side of the Omega. As to gauge the small boy’s reaction Harry lifts his gaze–any previous concern fades, because the boy’s expression is one the Alpha can recognise by now…but this isn’t _any look_ , isn’t any Omega, this is _Louis–_ his beautiful, ingenuous Omega reacting to him. And it’s there in the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the soft rose in his cheeks, the skittish doe in his forget-me-nots.

It’s there, it’s _everywhere;_ his Alpha feels it, the pull–the electricity between them–tangible, drawing him towards the unsuspecting Omega.

Comprehension oozes through him, heated honey purling through his veins. Unbidden, his gaze is drawn to Louis’s mouth–lips parted, the sounds of his shallow breaths fill the Alpha with a fierce longing–a feeling that isn’t wholly his, it’s _theirs,_ and it’s so fucking impossible to resist. “Louis,” his voice is an Alpha’s in its timbre, even as he attempts to gain some control over his natural instinct to answer the Omega’s desire. “I can’t wait…I’m sorry.” _I need this, you, now._

Unable to wait, unable to fight it, the Alpha surges toward him, caressing the Omega’s lips with his own–always guiding him. And at first Louis’s lips are unmoving and realising his mistake Harry goes to retreat…but with a weak gasp the Omega’s fingers knot in his curl, restraining the movement. _Fuck yes._

On its own accord his hand grips Louis’s sharp hip, tugging him upward, towards his straining erection, so close to being cradled by his soft tummy. Just inches apart. _So close..._ Relentless, urgent his tongue works against the boy’s lips, relishing in the hints of sweetness there, anticipating the taste of his mouth. And when the Alpha’s teeth catch his bottom lip the Omega gasps again, this time it’s an invitation as Harry’s tongue takes over, invading, taking, caressing the explosive taste of him–sweet surprise.

A broken sound floods the room as Louis begins to respond, strokes so tentative, so inexperienced. Squirming, the Omega’s fingers urge him impossibly closer until the Alpha manages to drag his lips away–though when Harry manages to speak, their lips continue to make whisper-soft contact, “Careful…” his lips _are_ careful over the boy’s, “Careful…” the word doesn’t help to remind him as his tongue teases Louis’s mouth open again, “Careful…”

But the Omega doesn’t listen–and the Alpha’s canines scrape his bottom lip again, and Louis _licks_ over the plush flesh before Harry’s tongue works against his again–creating a spellbinding rhythm. _Fuck it–_ not really making the decision, thoughts cluttered, the Alpha thinks, _let’s show him how much I want him._

With a sharp inhale the Alpha carries his hand to the small of his back, just above his luscious arse, arching that small, petite frame, curved to fit him perfectly, so his cock–bulging in his trousers–effectively presses tight between them. Now, the Omega stills, whining into his mouth, “Harry….Harry, _please,_ I…don’t…”

Realisation dawns–the complete innocence, the _confusion_ there slams into the Alpha like a wrecking ball, a battering ram. A vicious shudder runs through his entire body as Harry separates their mouths, breaking the Omega’s grip effortlessly to storm across the room.

There the Alpha stalks around the area furthest from Louis, attempting to work the burn, the _buzz,_ into nonexistence. Hell, it’d been difficult enough to keep his body in check before he’d put his fucking mouth on him. Now that his tongue knows the Omega’s taste, his spine is on fire, the burn spreading over his every muscle. And his skin tingles all over, itching so badly the Alpha is tempted to take sandpaper to it.

As Harry rubs his arms, his hands shake uncontrollably–the boy’s fragrance, his emotions, his reactions _,_ the knowledge that Harry could take him right now, because Louis wouldn’t _refuse_ him, festers and beckons him.

“Louis, I have to be alone for a little while.” Somehow the Alpha manages to retrieve his shoes, put them on _and_ cross the room without acting on his urges, only pausing at the window. “I’m going to my car. And when I come back I expect you to be asleep.”

The silence doesn’t stretch because Harry slips through the window noiselessly, on his feet again within seconds–record time–then down the street where his car blocks the vacated drive of an equally as vacated flat. There, the Alpha sits in the driver’s side, with his hands over his knees, forcing his muscles to relax before focusing on his lungs. Drawing each breath through his nose and exhaling out his mouth, he concentrates on keeping his respiration even and slow.

The world recedes until all sounds and sights and smells are shut out and there is only his breathing.

Only his breathing.  
Only his breathing.  
Only his…

Some time passes before his calm is recovered, the trembling is gone, and with the distance the damned buzz dissolves his Alpha’s sex drive. Even so, there isn’t any doubt in his mind that once he returns to Louis the feeling will return as well–ever the unstoppable force.

And, well, that doesn’t stop him from sliding through the cracked window again (call him screwed up but…)

Approaching, the Alpha realises Louis _listened_ and the lack thereof emotions allows him to remain attuned to his own feelings as Harry stands over him, measuring his slow, even breathes. Curled up, Louis is so small, so glaringly small.

Without permission the Alpha stretches out beside Louis and gently shifts his body so he’s nestled in the crook of his arm.  Next to him, the Omega is tiny.

Stirring, Louis lifts his head, “Haz?”

“Go back to sleep,” Harry whispers, urging him against his chest. “Just let me hold you. That’s all I’m going to do.”

And the Alpha absorbs his sigh through his skin, closing his eyes as the Omega curls further into his side.

Quiet.

Everything is so quiet. Quiet in the house. Quiet in the room. Quiet inside _him._

There’s the stupid impulse to wake Louis up and reposition him just so he could feel the boy ease against him once more.

Instead, Harry focuses on his breathing, matching the draw and push of his own lungs to the Omega’s.

So…peaceful.  
And quiet.

 _So that’s why,_ the thought is absent as oblivion grasps him, _Alpha’s aren’t allowed to see their Omega in bed._

 

**∞∞∞**

           

Within the endless obscurity a candles flame flickers and dances–indiscernible. And despite the threat this flame poses Louis struggles to resist–only now realising he’s been _cold_ this entire time–drawn to the heat that blazes so bright, _too_ bright. Even so, Louis is dazzled by the imperceptible light, and it becomes too much, too _hot,_ stifling and overpowering…It wakes him.

Sighing sleepily the Omega meets conscious thoughts, opening his eyes to be greeted by the same inscrutable darkness. But there isn’t time to dwell on that particular heartache because Louis realises he’s draped in Harry Styles–the Alpha is wrapped around him and fast asleep with his head on Louis’s chest, holding him impossibly close with one, long leg thrown over and hooked around both of the Omega’s. Like this, he’s suffocating the Omega with his body heat, and he’s _heavy;_ a constant, sharp pressure over Louis’s ribs.

Disregarding his body’s slight discomfort, his Omega savors the proximity while Louis absorbs the knowledge that the Alpha is still in his bed and fast asleep and it must be morning–as it’s becoming increasingly noisy in the connecting hall.

Releasing the breath he’d been holding in, Louis shuts his eyes again, ready to find sleep once more when the memories from the previous night wash over him. The arguing, _oh no the arguing,_ his Mum, and the…With a small, helpless noise the Omega hides his face in the pillow.

Even as the Omega tries to crush the thoughts, his mind returns to that moment and his heart constricts as his trembling fingers rise to his lips. Somehow, they’re still swollen from last night’s attention. _Oh no,_ Louis thinks, as the butterflies in his belly begin to flutter against the emotions; he doesn’t know whether to be embarrassed, humiliated, or extremely pleased _._

Embarrassed because Louis is _so_ inexperienced and now the Alpha knows this as well. Humiliated because Harry couldn’t even stand to continue touching him, or extremely pleased because, for the first time ever, Louis could rely on his body…For the first time in his sixteen years the Omega produced _slick–_ very, very little, but it was there. And in the moment, the Omega was torn between relief and disgust as the tears flowed freely as the slick between his legs. It was horrible. It was lovely. But, most of all, it was _sad…_ and even Louis doesn’t understand _how_ it could only happen once the Alpha wasn’t _there–_ like his body was _still_ protecting itself from the past.

But it isn’t _necessary_ anymore; Louis knows this, except his conscious or subconscious or whatever those posh, useless psychologists called it, hasn’t come to the same realisation.

Abruptly, halting his thoughts, an alarm shrills. Stilling, Louis catches a faint, irritated groan from deep in the Alpha’s throat as he stirs. Surprising him, the Alpha nuzzles his throat, inhaling deeply as he wakes, tousled mop of curls tickling Louis’s nose. And the Omega is flushed at the sensations pooling in his belly, nearly purring.

“Smells good,” a deep, sleep-ridden voice murmurs, before Harry groans again, “Christ, even in my sleep I’m drawn to you.” Slowly, the Alpha unpeels his limbs, seeming to gather his bearings.

“Hi,” Louis breathes, floundering.

With a quiet _hmm,_ Harry asks, “Sleep well?” _When you came back, yes,_ the Omega thinks, though Louis opts to nod instead–his cheeks warm again.

“So did I,” there’s a frown in his voice, though Louis’s thoughts have returned to last night. And, well, curiosity gets the better of him, “Why did you leave last night?” 

There’s a beat of silence before the Alpha responds quietly, too quietly, “Because, I wasn’t in control…And I can’t be with you when I’m that way–I’ll hurt you.”

“No,” Louis mumbles, shaking his head. “You wouldn’t hurt me.” And the Omega refuses to believe otherwise, because since the beginning, when Harry Styles knocked him down with his stupid balance and spoke in his stupid Alpha voice, Louis’s clung to the idea that, in the end, when it’s all said and done, his heart _wouldn’t_ end up torn and tattered at his feet–to the idea that Harry Styles wouldn’t hurt him. So, _no_ , Louis will _not_ be the one left hurting–at least that’s what he’ll continue to believe until the time comes.

Oblivious, the Alpha sighs, a long drawn-out sigh before brushing his swooping fringe from his eyes, “Oh, love. You’re so naïve–so innocent.”

“Okay, granddad,” Louis snaps, the frustration works to prevent the looming panic from swamping him, “Still, I refuse to believe you’d hurt me.”

“Not intentionally, no,” _finally,_ he agrees, planting a swift kiss to the Omega’s temple. “But, I should go before Jay can confirm her suspicions.”

“Suspicions?!” his voice sounds strangled. “Oh no–I _knew_ it! I should’ve practised my acting skills.”

In response, Harry chuckles softly, leaving the bed to stand. And subtly Louis shifts and curls up there, where his Alpha’s scent is caught in the material of his blankets, where his heat lingers. “’s not funny, Haz,” he moans, burrowing his face in the pillow. “Now she’s going to call me every five seconds in France to make sure we’re not up to any,” with fingers-quotation marks, he repeats her exact words only days ago, “ _funny business.”_

“Don’t fret, love,” Harry murmurs soothingly. “She won’t say anything to you.”

“Promise?” Louis breathes, peeking up from the pillows with his heart in his eyes.

“Promise,” the Alpha hums, shuffling about the area before leaning in to kiss his cheek–which makes his mouth turn down, frowning, because now it’s confirmed that Harry doesn’t want to kiss him again. And Louis’s heart sinks to the depths of the oceans, dramatics excluded.

“An hour,” there’s a grin in his voice. And like a whirlwind, the Alpha’s gone. As to calm his nerves, Louis snuggles into the Alpha side, inhaling the exquisite scent embedded there and smiling (because his heart lurches to reality again and the reality is that Harry _stayed,_ which proves more than any kiss–or well, maybe not, but right now, it does).

Stretching, the Omega manages (though _unwilling)_ to climb out of bed and half-heartedly rearrange the blankets again. Once that’s finished Louis hurries downstairs to the kitchen, where his Mum greets him, “Good morning. Sleep well?”

“Mhm,” Louis sighs, taking his usual seat at the island, “Managed to finish packing even.” Without acknowledging that, Jay starts up the kettle, and when Louis denies breakfast (tummy in turmoil with a fresh wave of butterflies) she leans against the counterpane, “Excited?”

Louis shrugs, sipping hastily at his tea, “More nervous than anything.”

“You will be fine, poppet. Don’t over-think it too much.” Sadly, before Louis can assure his Mum that it’s too late, his minds been reeling for days, the girls make an abrupt entrance, scrambling into their seats beside him–none of them actually make use of the dining-table in the mornings. Its fine then, the Omega is nearly at ease with girls murmuring around their breakfast when someone pokes his shoulder.

Reverie broken, but still in a slight daze, Louis goes to ask seconds-to-late as Lottie asks first, “Excited?”

With a small sigh the Omega shrugs, then repeats his earlier answer.

“I dunno what there’s to be nervous about, Lou,” his eldest younger sister murmurs, though she doesn’t give him even a _chance_ to list the _whys_ , “I’d be excited! Especially since this isn’t _any_ Alpha, this is one of England’s to-be-Council, and he’s so fit, Lou!”

Without reason, Louis blushes furiously, to the tips of his ears, taking another sip of his now-lukewarm tea; needing a second to sum up an answer that doesn’t consist of _‘and he’s mine’_ or something equally as possessive and smitten. Still, the Omega’s response doesn’t manage to flow, it splutters and wavers, “It’s…There’s more to him than the Council or the looks, Lottie…We’re…I’m…That’s…”

With an airy laugh, Lottie pats his shoulder, “Alright, boo, don’t hurt yourself. I was only joking. But, honest, live a little, and have fun, yeah?”

“Yeah…” Louis whispers, managing to smile a bit, “I will, thanks.”

Afterwards, the Omega bounds upstairs, gathers his outfit and heads into the bathroom, where he brushes his teeth and climbs into the steaming torrent. A while passes with Louis standing beneath the stream, and soon enough it works to loosen the muscles in his back, calm his pulse. While the time rushes and drains to quickly, the familiar smell of his shampoo makes him feel like he might be the same person from many months ago.

Except the comfort doesn’t last as someone knocks (more like _pounds_ ) at the entrance, “Looouisss,” its Lottie’s sing-song, “Your Alpha is here! And fit as ever.”

 _My Alpha,_ his Omega has woken, assessing the words almost carefully. _My Alpha._

And this time the words run shivers up his spine; unsuccessfully, Louis tries to ignore it–the way everything deep in his body uncurls, and then clenches weirdly. Somehow, it doesn’t hurt…the sensation is delicious and that scares him. Desire, he thinks, this is what desire feels like.

Through fumbling movements Louis manages to shut the tap and leave the space. When Omega wraps a towel around his waist…he notices it; he’s hard–his length curves upward, tenting the towel and Louis stares (cheeks in flames, mouth gaping, eyes round). 

Of course the Omega _knows,_ he isn’t green as everyone thinks, his best mate _is_ Niall _,_ but it’s still mystifying and _new_ and…uncomfortable.

Unbidden and unwelcome tears pool in his useless eyes–because he doesn’t know what to do, because he’s angry at his body’s senseless reaction. And he’s achy and trembling and tingly and it’s _too_ much.

 _Pathetic,_ his subconscious sneers in disbelief, _it’s only an erection. Just…touch it or something…or…_

Wiping furiously at the traitor tears, Louis focuses on twisting the tap’s temperature to its coldest–recalling Niall’s weeklong attempt at celibacy, and his relief to be _“done with cold showers”._ Once the cold touches his skin the Omega squeaks, then sighs, as the fire low in his belly begins to die–soon enough the ache dissipates and he’s no longer straining down there.

“You’re fine, Lou,” his voice doesn’t even convince him as the Omega exits the shower once more. There, goose-bumps rise on his arms, and his entire body trembles from all the cold–but it’s okay, because Louis is so relieved to feel normal again, though he’s sure the evidence of his arousal is all over his face–the bright, flaming cheeks, the bitten raw lips, and he doesn’t _want_ to imagine what his eyes might give away.

Mustering what semblance of courage remains, Louis scurries into his bedroom to make rapid work of getting dressed. Once he’s in trackies the Omega wiggles into his trousers (bright red, he believes that’s where they were located in his wardrobe) and a shirt (he’s not even sure what colour) that hugs his chest, socks and his white plimsolls, hoping the kit isn’t a mess of mismatched colours.

Soon Louis is struggling with his damp fringe, growing frustrated when it refuses to cooperate, hanging limply over his forehead. And he’s just about ready to give up when the Alpha’s deep, warm voice murmurs from close behind, “I don’t believe you’re going to get anywhere with it being damp. Besides, it looks quite lovely like this.”

And…the fluster is back, Louis thinks miserably, cheeks warm, eyes cast down to the floor, “You shouldn’t be up here. 

“Well, that’s strange,” the Alpha mutters, smug now, “As I’m up here nearly every night.” Of course, even discussing _this,_ Harry Styles manages to sound factual–as if Louis doesn’t already _know_ this, as if his sheets and blankets don’t have the Alpha’s scent permanently caught within the material, _as if._

“Shush,” Louis hisses, shaking his head before crossing the room to rummage through the first stand just inside his wardrobe, where all his– _Harry’s–_ jumpers are, “It’s like you _want_ everyone to know this.”

“I do. I’m feeling a bit proprietary,” of course the Alpha remains unruffled as ever.

“Why am I not surprised?” the Omega grumbles (a second too-late) when, unexpectedly, his hand meets the soft, hoax-fur of his wolf, which he’s not needed with Harry cuddling him every night–he’d nearly forgotten Wolfy.

A frisson of affection runs through him–his irritated façade dissolves as his arms hug Wolfy to his chest, and he’s smiling softly.

“What’re you smiling about– _oh,_ ” his voice is close now, in the doorway. “Lou, you didn’t have to keep that. I can get you another, better wolf, not some cheap–,” _What?_

“No!” Louis gasps, slightly horrified. “This is my Wolfy! My _special_ Wolfy! Leave him alone!”

Amusement colours his tone as the Alpha drawls, “Sentimental are we?” _Yes, Styles, because you got him for me and I love him._

With a haughty snivel Louis tightens his hold on his stuffed animal, mumbling again, “He’s special,” and too make it known that he’s serious, “And don’t you even _think_ about replacing him again, it won’t end well for you.”

“Alright, kitten,” the Alpha gives, almost contrite. “You can keep the wolf.”

“Like I was asking permission,” Louis scoffs, starting in the direction of his bedroom, except then he isn’t because Harry’s lissome fingers circle both his wrists, tugging him sharply, so that he ends up losing balance. Of course the Alpha doesn’t even yield to gravity, righting him. And they’re close, Wolfy sandwiched between them.

“Hello,” the other hums, nosing at his cheek, breath soft against his skin.

“Are…you _sure_ Mum…let you up here?” the Omega’s breath hitches in attempts to remain even. It’s impossible, because the Alpha’s scent–expensive body wash and just…Harry–is _everywhere,_ muddling his thoughts into nonexistence.

“Positive,” even his _voice_ is intoxicating, and unaccustomed to this new edge Louis lets the Alpha crowd him until his back is pressed to the wall, deeper in the wardrobe now. Protectively, _instinctively,_ Louis shuts his eyes, so Harry can’t read whatever lies within them. Louis exhales shakily, but doesn’t dare move as the Alpha continues thoughtfully, “Though she really shouldn’t trust me anywhere near you. No, she shouldn’t,” his mouth brushes the erogenous spot beneath Louis’s jaw; a small, barely-there whimper falls passed his lips.

“Why?” his voice is too high, too breathy. “Why shouldn’t she?”

“Because,” Harry groans, and it’s almost a pained sound, “I’m not…good for you, Lou. And yet here I am, and I can’t seem to stop wanting you.”

“Don’t stop,” the words are there, but his racing heart is in his mouth. “You’re my Alpha, remember? We’re meant–it’s the opposite, Harry. I’m…It’s me who’s lacking here–unworthy even. But you…you’re perfect. And I know it’s selfish, but…please, don’t stop wanting me.”

“No, love,” this time the Alpha snakes his arms around Louis’s waist, and the atmosphere weighs now; tears spring to the Omega’s eyes. “When are you going to realise your vision doesn’t make you any less perfect?”

“When it’s true,” his voice is low and soft with unshed tears.

“It’s always true,” it’s a _lie,_ but soothing all the same, “One of these days I’m going to show this to you. But, for now, how about I’ll be your Alpha and you’ll be my little kitten? And I’ll continue to want you when it’s safe too.” Reaching down, Harry caresses his cheek, until his adept fingers grasp Louis’s chin. And, without much warning, the Alpha leans forward to plant a brief, chaste kiss on his lips, leaving Louis breathless, his insides clenching (there it is again) at the thrilling, unexpected touch of his Alpha’s lips.

“Harry! Lou! No funny business!” his Mum’s voice comes from below and Louis tenses, though the Alpha laughs, distancing them.

“Guess the trust doesn’t run quite so deep,” the Omega mutters under his breath, leaving the wardrobe to open his bedroom door so Jay doesn’t come to investigate or something equally as embarrassing. Then, Louis extends Wolfy in offering, “We can’t leave him, Haz–it’s bound to get lonely. Please, can’t we bring him?”

“I dunno, Lou, he might try to take my place,” the Alpha’s voice is playful again and the butterflies in his tummy flourish.

“Jealous,” the Omega mumbles. “Hmm, it doesn’t become you, Haz.”

With that same, completely charming boyish laugh the Alpha takes Wolfy from him, answering absently, “It’s only fair that I have _one_ flaw, at the very least.”

As too hide his grin Louis preoccupies his attention, grabbing his rucksack from the corner. Shoving his hands into the bag, the Omega double checks that his phone, iPod, book and other necessities are there, and accounted for–by the time he’s finished his Mum’s voice breaks the comfortable silence. “Lou, go on downstairs and say goodbye to your sisters.” 

Instantly, Louis goes to ask _why_ (surely they can say goodbye at the door?) when Harry murmurs, “Yeah, give you all some privacy.”

Grimacing in the traitors direction, Louis sighs, but leaves the two–realising a bit belatedly, when Lottie comes down, giggling girlishly, there’s a _reason_ his Mum wanted to be alone with Harry.

“Lou,” Lottie hisses around snickers, “You sneaky thing, you. And here I thought you were so _innocent.”_

Puzzled, the Omega mutters, “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy! Mum’s up there lecturing your Alpha about Council principles! Not like Harry needs reminding…but then again you two have been up to proper mischief.”

 _Oh? Oh no!_ She knows.

With a sharp gasp, Louis slaps a hand over his face and tries not to expire right there. This is horrible, so, so _horrible_ –someone else must realise this, “This is horrible!”

“Wait! Before you go into dramatics…tell me, was he any good?” _Oh my…God._

And then Louis realises, with about as much certainty as his mind can maintain, that somehow, someway, _today_ he is going to _die_

 

**∞∞∞**

 

            Here goes, the Alpha thinks, not exactly surprised that this has happened–the Alpha knew he was bound to fuck up somehow. Just… _not quite so soon._ But the Alpha must admit bringing the backpack with him this morning was possibly the worst mistake of them all (go figure). So, as the Alpha watches Louis fiddle with his rucksack, Jay’s abrupt entrance doesn’t surprise him in the least. Though, despite the gravity of this situation, it’s slightly amusing that she’s carrying his bag. Or maybe amusement is his latest go-to.

 When the female Omega slyly suggests (demands) Louis goes downstairs for whatever reason Harry can only agree–refusing to break his recent promise. Once the boy complies, Harry stands, and she tosses the bag at him–the Alpha manages to catch it _without_ falling over in his attempts. 

Silence stretches, and seemingly worn out the female Omega perches on the bed, murmuring, “Well, I’m waiting for an excuse.”

At this point the Alpha figures it’s best to appease her, besides, it’s well worth a _shot_ at the very least, “I’ve ten replicas of the same bag at the manor.”

Clucking, Jay shakes her head, “More believable than that, Harry.”

“Alright,” he fumbles–slightly peeved, struggling against the slight tension, “Louis returned it to me at the door?”

“Louis was in the shower.” _Best not to remind me,_ the Alpha thinks, then winces at the prospect of his Omega’s petite frame dripping beautifully with stray droplets of liquid. And the branded image sends wanton shocks through his veins–abruptly, he’s very thirsty.

“Right,” Harry nods, done with drawing this out, “Okay then, I give up.”

“Well,” the female Omega mutters, “Can’t say I’m exactly surprised.” _Okaaaay then,_ not exactly expected, but the Alpha will make do with whatever’s offered.

Coughing, the Alpha blurts (because _fuck,_ this is becoming strange, and rapidly too), “Meaning?”

“This room smells like it belongs to an Alpha. There’s hardly a trace of Omega here.” Inhaling, the Alpha finds she is _right,_ his scent is here and though Harry feels slightly guilty, it’s nothing compared to the satisfaction brimming within. But…this isn’t the time.

“Honestly, I knew you’d figure it out, but…I couldn’t stay away. And I take complete responsibility, of course, it’s wasn’t Louis’s idea or fault. So–,”

“Oh, no,” the older Omega shakes her head, turning an icy glare on him. “There’s no protecting him from me, Harry. Remember that. Yes, Louis is young, but he’s not dense. And there’s no doubt in my mind that he wanted you here.”

Sure as hell hope so, the Alpha thinks, growling at the idea of anyone _daring_ toclaim otherwise. Louis is _his,_ and were there another Alpha... Halting those thoughts Harry returns to his present predicament.                                                                        

 _And here comes the awkward._ “I haven’t touched him. I swear on my honour. I’ve held him. But I’ve behaved. I wouldn’t hurt him like that. And I sure as Hell wouldn’t ruin him,” Jay looks vaguely surprised by the fervor in his tone–it spurs him, “It’s probably too soon to even _talk_ about this…but my intentions are honorable. If Louis will have me, it is my intention to mate your son one day, Jay, _properly_ with my Father’s, the Councils, but mostly, _your_ blessings. I’m offering my most sincere apologies, with the assurance that Louis will have his own room in Paris.” Not his finest promise, surely. But it’s too late to think now, his Alpha curses him–an entire nights rest is out of the equation now, and even the damned buzz threatens to strangle him.

Still, it’s the consequence–and Harry will take it, not gladly, but respectfully at the least.

Yet the female Omega’s reaction stuns him more than anything else–sharp gaze softening, Jay beams, clasping her hands before standing. “That’s all I needed to know. You’re a decent lad, Styles. But, I’m obligated, as Mummy-Bear, to remind you that I _am_ capable of skinning you alive if you hurt my baby. Now, with that out of the way, let’s join the others, and you two ought to get a move on.” Well then 

Grinning his signature _you’ve-got-it_ grin, the Alpha goes to grab the luggage when someone comes rushing up the steps. An unknown emotion–some piercing combination of dread, desperation and panic–smothers Harry and it takes him a moment to realise it’s not his emotion. And when his gaze lifts, its there, written on Louis’s features, lurking in his beautiful eyes. 

While the Alpha’s thoughts reel, his Omega’s Mum speaks, “What’s the matter, Boo? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” The attempt at humour is so horribly delivered that Harry’s lips twitch, though Louis swallows, biting his lip before, “Mum, can I talk to Harry? For a second…Please.”

With a bewildered, _‘was it something I said?’_ look, the female Omega exits the room, leaving the door slightly ajar–respectability and all. Once she’s gone, Louis’s arms curl around his chest protectively, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth.

Without making the conscious decision, the Alpha crosses the room and crushes the small boy to his chest, planting gentle kisses to his damp hair, and inhaling the thick, sweet scent there.

“L-Lottie said…A-And I…was s-scared that…I was scared,” Louis snivels, and Harry holds him, bleeding his warmth into him, breathing soft words of comfort until the Omega is noticeably calmer; no longer trembling or coming apart at the seams.

“S-Sorry,” Louis mumbles, hesitant, “My nerves are all over the place this morning.”

“What happened? What scared you?” his Alpha is growling, emitting subzero levels of hostility towards whomever or whatever dared.

“I thought…I thought you’d be angry…” _Ah, hell,_ it was _me,_ again, he thinks. 

“I’m always angry,” his voice is light despite the frustration gnawing at him–Louis retracts. And though he’s working to keep the disbelief stark on his features, his smile still stands out.

“You did not just quote the Hulk!”

“I did. But honest, Lou, there’s nothing for me to be angry over. Besides, it’s nearly impossible to be put out with you, kitten.” It’s true, even proper fuming the Omega is endearing.

“It’ll happen, Haz,” Louis whispers, so sadly that Harry realises these words are an echo of something much more profound. Something that makes his fists clench and his Alpha growl begin to snarl furiously. 

“None of that,” Harry breathes, flexing his hands before twining their fingers coaxingly. “We’re _here,_ in the now, and I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to argue with Ireland until Josh knocks me one proper, I’m ready to tests Liam’s ever-so-practised patience, and ready to tease Zayn mercilessly about his new love-interest.”

When the Omega goes to interrupt the Alpha hushes him, “I’m not finished. Most important, I am _so_ ready for LouisandHarry _._ ” _Because damn it, there’s no me without you anymore._  

“You and I,” the Omega mumbles before grinning timidly. “Friends ‘til the end. Partners in crime–which naturally means we go to Paris to make rude gestures at nuns and talk dirty in French. _Ad infinitum.”_ And those are his words from many months ago, but fuck him they sound so much better on Louis’s petal-soft lips.

“Exactly,” the Alpha manages to marshal his wayward marveling. “Now, let’s go before I tell another lie.”

“Another lie?”

“I might’ve told Jay that I hadn’t touched you,” Harry answers, almost bashful–expecting Louis’s disapproval–striding over to the suitcase.

Except Louis (ever-the-surprise) giggles, “Jeez, I dunno how to feel about how excellent a liar you are, Haz. Are you even an Alpha? Have you been lying all this time to be with me? Why I’m flattered.”

“Yes, Lou, I’m a Beta,” Harry murmurs gravely. “I hope you can find it in your heart to accept the real me and all that I’m not.”

“Ah, ah, Styles,” the Omega tuts, flicking his fringe haughtily, “You have to _woo_ me first. Then, if you’re lucky, I might forgive you.”

Grinning in triumph the Alpha shakes his head, lifting the luggage effortlessly and making for the stairwell, teasing again, “Christ, Lou, managing to cart this luggage ought to woo you enough. What did you horde?”

“You should know,” Louis grumbles. “You chose what went in the ruddy thing.”

“Oh, don’t worry kitten, it’s all well worth it,” the Alpha replies, winking uselessly as they reach ground-level. From there his Omega’s siblings swarm them, and it becomes difficult to even exit the door because–“Curly! Curly,” a high voice cries, “Are you courting Lou-Bear!?”

Then, one hushed mumble, “You must bring me a new dolly! Pleeeeasee!”

And, “Take us with you! Oh, please!”

“Oh, yes!” one the youngest girls (Daisy?) exclaims, “We’ve never been!”

“Yes, we have, Dais,” the eldest girl mutters, “You were just a wee thing.”

But, it doesn’t end there, “I’m a big girl now, aren’t I, Mummy? And I promise to be on my _best_ behaviour! Oh, please, Harry!”

Caught in the commotion, the Alpha is unable to recognize who is who, or which twin clings to his right leg, until Jay brings the uproar to an end, “Alright, girls! Stop pestering the poor lad!” 

“We are _not!”_ then, at the knowing look their Mum gives them, six identical pairs of big-puppy-dog- _blue_ eyes gaze up at him, “We aren’t, right Curly?” _Ah, hell._

And his equilibrium is damned straight to Hell–it’s overwhelming, and unsettling and much too intimidating…but somehow the Alpha manages to conserve his smile (sure, it’s more than likely _pained_ , but what difference does it make?) “Course not,” _Christ_ , is that his voice? “How about this, I promise to bring each of you something special. But it’s a surprise. And you must behave for your Mummy to receive it? Have we a deal?”

Squealing, each girl (aside from Lottie, who’s managed to avoid this, snickering silently with Louis) begins to hop about, “Yes! Yes, please!”

“Alright then, darlings,” the female Omega murmurs, “Go on, say goodbye to your brother.” Dutifully, the lot whirls towards the two (who shoot him identical disgruntled looks) as the Alpha grasps the escape, shoving the luggage into the trunk of his Audi and composing his shot nerves all the same before returning–where the rest huddle around Louis’s legs, hugging him and bickering over who will miss him most.

And it’s a sight–his Omega like this, all warm, gentle words and touches for his little sisters. Stunned into silence the Alpha smiles (inanely) wide–it’s such a beautiful picture, one Harry tries not to exceed (failing miserably–the aspect of Louis hugging _their_ children one day makes his head swim, and it’s _too fucking soon)_.

 _Lord_ , the Alpha actually considers getting on his knees because surely some outside force knows his souls in need right now, _please, help me help my stupid-self._

“Alright, children,” Lottie (who he’s yet to formally meet) coos, hoax-sagely, “We all know that _I_ am going to miss Lou most. Now, leave the adults to _adult_ conversations.”

“Oh, shut up, Lotts,” Louis snivels–cobalt gaze suspiciously watery (dimly, Jay reminds _‘language!’_ though everyone ignores her). “But, she’s right, girls, go and get ready for the day. And we’ll see you in exactly a week.”

A clearing storm, the girls scamper inside, each with a shy, little, “see ya, Curly!’

Charmed, Harry waves, greeting Lottie, who’s attained Louis’s humour and wit. She’s rambling on about something (probably) important but the Alpha isn’t listening. Not at all.

Beside them the Omega’s Mum embraces him, sniffling, “You need anything, Boo, _anything at all,_ don’t hesitate to–,"

“Call you,” even his Omega’s voice breaks. “I know, Mum, it’s only a week. I will be fine.”

“I know, but it’s not too late to back out…”

At that, both Louis and Harry smile fondly, when the boy says, “Weren’t _you_ the one urging me to go? I can’t back out now, Mum. Besides, I _want_ to go, and it’ll work out fine.”

“I know, I know! Alright, I’m finished. Say goodbye to Lottie."

“That’s my cue,” the Alpha catches Lottie’s mumble before she treks over to Louis, embracing him.

Then, shocking him is Jay’s tight embrace–the Alpha goes rigid, unused to a Mother’s affection, but she doesn’t seem to mind or notice, “You take care of my boy, Styles. He returns anything less than perfect and–,”

“You’ll skin me, and have a rather handsome throw-rug?” Harry grins.

“Exactly,” Jay says. “And don’t forget to take care of yourself too.” 

Swallowing around the forming lump in his throat, Harry nods, ending the embrace with a simple, “Likewise, Jay.”

Somehow, towards the finishing goodbye’s, the Alpha manages to help Louis into the passenger side. This time the boy’s smile belongs to him, as Louis breathes, “Ready?”

Beside him, Harry answers, “I was born ready.”

And though Louis laughs outright the Alpha can’t find it in him to even _act_ put out. With the window’s down, both catch Lottie’s farewell, “And not too much fun, you two!”

“There’s never enough fun,” he bites back–and then they’ve begun their journey.

 

**∞∞∞**

 

                Once they’ve parked in one of the manors many garages the Omega–excited and eager–hops out the vehicle, and when the Alpha rounds–prepared to voice his displeasure with Louis’s spur-the-moment action–the boy’s smile is so brilliant the Alpha finds himself grinning back. Inside, the Alpha sets down the luggage, watching–marveling as Louis’s smalls hands memorise the entrance, still beaming with energy. Soon, those hands meet the spiral-staircases polished banister, and Louis cries, “Race ya!”

And so, the Alpha does–leading due to the head-start Louis seems completely unfazed by the new environment, though Harry reaches makes it too his door first, lean legs moving swiftly.

“Ha-ha. Beat ya,” the Alpha teases, leaning against the wall beside the entrance with an indolent smile.

“Only ‘cause I let you,” the Omega huffs, slightly out of breath–it’s absolutely adorable.

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Harry drawls, “Did you now?”

“Maybe…” Louis plunders impishly, unable to catch his breath because the Alpha tackles him into a kiss, lips hungrily attaching to Louis’s parted ones; and with a delighted gasp the boy fists his curls, reflexively straining on his tip toes.

“Haz,” it’s breathless, reluctant. “We have places to be.” And the Alpha can’t help but chuckle, distancing them–not by much, because the appeal remains on some deep, elemental level Harry couldn’t begin to understand.  

Dismissing it, the Omega grins again, “Lessgo, get your luggage.” Then, like it’s his own room, Louis throws open the door, and maybe, with time, the Omega will fill the empty crevasses with some of _his_ warmth, maybe, with time, the room will feel like _theirs._

“About that…” Harry starts, “See I didn’t have the chance–,”

Stopping in his tracks, Louis whirls around, and the Alpha nearly topples face-first in attempts to keep from knocking him down as well. “To pack,” he finishes. “But, I will throw some things in a duffle and–,”

“Right now!? Harry, what time is it!?”

Harry tousles his hair, smoothes it back and shrugs, “Thirty to twelve.”

“Thirty to–Harry, you said we were set to leave at twelve.”

“I did,” the Alpha mutters, grabbing his duffle from the wardrobe, “But the flight can wait an hour or so.”

“Last time I checked,” Louis snaps, rolling his eyes, “flights didn’t _wait_ on any, lone person.” _Well mine does, baby._

“I’m not any, lone person, kitten,” Harry murmurs smugly, throwing anything his hands touch into the duffle so Louis relaxes a bit, “Besides, call me psychic, but I have a feeling it’ll wait.”

“We can’t rely on a _feeling,_ Harry,” the boy grumbles, and the Alpha thinks there might be someone as cynical as him in this world after all. But, the Alpha can’t very well tell him that Head-Base (his personal pilot, even) is quite literally at his beck and call–it’s bound to overwhelm him. 

“Well someone kept me up all night packing so we’re going to have too.”

“Well I _assumed_ a certain Alpha had finished his packing already, tosser.” This, right here, is what drives Harry absolutely mad–with _want_ and _desire_ and adoration–because nobody (aside from his Father who doesn’t matter)–not even Zayn insults him this way. And it’s both trying and.. _._ a breath of _fresh,_ cleansed-of-bias air.

“There you go again,” Harry grins, zipping the bag, “with the abuse.”

Blinking rapidly, the Omega’s teeth bite down on his lip, preventing a response. Two point-O seconds before his emotions bleed through the bond– _remorse, guilt._

“Little one.” Louis shuts those beautiful eyes. Two point-O seconds later and Harry has walked over to cup his face softly, “Lou?”

“Yes?” his voice is quiet–the _‘upset’_ pitch.

“You shouldn’t take what I say seriously. I told you, most of the time I make absolutely no sense.”

Now the boy’s mouth hints at a smile, “You’re right. Sometimes it’s like you’re speaking an entirely foreign language. Hmm, do Alpha’s have some sort of abnormal language? Because I know it’s an easy misconception, as I’m manly and all, but I really _don’t_ understand you lot.”

“Manly, how so?” his fingers brush stray strands of silky-locks from the Omega’s gaze–not wanting to miss one reaction there.

“Well, I-I mean look at me,” Louis mumbles.

“I am,” the Alpha sighs. “And you’re mighty pretty, Lou.”

“ _Pretty?”_ the Omega gapes, narrowing his eyes, “I am _not_ pretty, Styles. Unless pretty is codename for masculine.” _So, so pretty,_ Harry coos inwardly.

“Actually,” his voice is even and steady. “I believe, some way or another it’s word for _feminine,_ little one.”

“Such an Alpha,” Louis groans, batting his hands away. “Anyway, it’s too early for this, I’ve not even eaten and–,”

Instantly the Alpha’s gaze sharpens with disapproval, “You didn’t eat?” he demands tightly.

Just the Omega’s _look_ –helpless guilt–spells out the answer, though Harry continues to stare until Louis mumbles, “I’m not hungry.” _Unacceptable._

“You need to eat, Louis,” his voice is tight with barely-withheld frustration, watching as Louis crosses his arms, muttering again, “I’m not hungry.”

 _Too fucking bad,_ the Alpha thinks, shrugging the duffle over one shoulder before snatching the small boy up and tossing _him_ (as gently as possible) over the other shoulder, holding him fast around his miniature legs.

“Harry!” Louis shrieks as Harry begins to descend the spiral-steps with him (practically weightless) over his shoulder still. When the Alpha ignores him, the Omega let’s out an indignant sigh before squirming, throwing painless blows with his little firsts, hissing about how _“unfair,”_ and _“unnecessary,”_ he is until Harry growls, accent thickening, “Bett’ah stop fidgeting, Louis. Or I _will_ spank you.”  And, even now the Alpha barely resists the urge to swat that full, luscious arse in retaliation, though sadly, Louis stills.

At the landing, Harry speaks again, much softer, “Will you behave if I release you?”

“Are you really asking if I’m going to eat? If so, then _no,_ thank you.”

“Kitten,” the Alpha purrs, daring to place his hand over the boy’s thigh. “Don’t be difficult. You’re going to eat–whether I have to wait all day. So, we can continue this, but I guarantee you’ll end up eating either way.” 

Growling weakly, the Omega snaps, “Fine, I’ll eat. Now, _let me go_ so I can at least attempt to be furious.”

Winningly, the Alpha grins, dimples and all, then places the boy on his feet but allows only that, tugging him into the kitchen, where the ‘weekend’ Cook, Mrs. Adams (or something, he doesn’t quite recall) bustles about doing God-knows-what.

When Harry clears his throat, the female Alpha turns with a warm smile, which falters the tiniest in surprise as she murmurs, “Oh. Hello, Mr. Styles, what a pleasant surprise. Can I prepare anything for you this morning?”

“Actually, yes, thanks. I’d like…um, Lou?” the previously bold Omega is now hidden behind him, looking very meek and mumbling to Harry, “U-um scones? And, um, and t-tea? Yorkshire, lots of sugar.”

Nodding curtly, the Alpha repeats it, but as the female Alpha nods, too interested in the boy, shielded by his body. Adam’s can’t be much older than Nick–twenty seven, eight at most, and consciously Harry realises she’s only curious or prying much like that other members of the staff would be, as the Alpha’s _never_ brought anyone to the manor but Zayn, but, even so, his Alpha growls in warning.

Pinning the female with an icy glare, Harry straightens, firmly placing his frame in front of Louis, then murmurs tightly, “Scones, Yorkshire tea, lots of sugar.”

Seemingly piqued, Adams nods, directing her straying attention to her area of expertise. Meanwhile the Alpha tows Louis into the dining vicinity (the outrageous room his Father habitually dines–more often than he’d admit Harry wonders how the older male manages to withstand such a vast space _alone,_ with his thoughts, brilliant they may be–Des may be a shit Father, but the Alpha isn’t daft–surely it _must_ drive the male _insane)_. Beside him, Harry watches Louis squirm–there’s something the Omega wants to say.

“Come on, Lou,” the Alpha urges, “Spit it out already.”

And almost instantly the Omega blurts, “You’re not…Why don’t you like it here?”

Of course Louis would choose that topic, Harry thinks, though before his tongue can form some sort of evasive answer, Louis continues, “I mean…I’m just trying to make sense of it. This is your home, yeah? And yet…you’re uncomfortable here. You don’t _enjoy_ being here…Why not?” Jesus.

_It’s not my home, it never has been._

And those words nearly spout from his mouth, except (saving him) an unfamiliar Beta enters the room with two sharp knocks. “Mr. Styles, your guests have arrived.” _Fucking finally._

“Show them in.”

Funnily enough the Beta doesn’t bother to screen his distaste, excusing himself with a curt nod. And silent seconds later Niall is first to barrel through the great-doors with an exaggerated, Irish-earsplitting proclamation, “ _We have arrived!”_

Then there’s Zayn, apathetic-as-ever, “I swear this…” he waves to Niall, “ _thing_ cannot get any more… _annoying!”_   _Har har._

“Oh, trust me,” Josh–storming into the room with an extremely displeased expression, wrapping a possessive arm around his to-be-mates shoulder, “He can.”

Completely unfazed the Irish-Omega chirps, “It’s true,” before demanding, “Bring out the bacon! I want _bacon!”_

“Demanding little thing, innit?” Josh rumbles, gazing down at his boy with that _fuck-it-I’m-in-love_ affection.

“Bacon it is,” the Alpha mutters, rising to stride into the kitchen and request an entire slab–because why the hell not? While he’s there, Harry grabs Louis’s dish and tea.

When Harry returns everyone has made themselves at home (more than he will ever be able to) with Niall perched on Josh’s lap, and Zayn seated beside Liam (something tells him they’re holding beneath the cherry-wood table) and there’s Louis, gladly immersed in the chaos–yes, his Alpha purrs, our boy would do very well when an entire litter of pups. Back to his vacated seat, Harry sets the Omega’s plate and tea before him, muttering “Eat.”

Smiling sheepishly Louis sips at his tea, humming appreciatively, and then nibbles at the scone. And the Alpha watches dotingly, only to be interrupted by Ireland, “Aye, Lou, I think your Alpha’s gatta starin’ problem.”

Louis blushes, but doesn’t comment, continuing the scone.  Just like that the others fall into light conversations, and Liam flashes a fold of paper, murmuring, “Well, I thought it’d be more organised with–,”

“Fucking Hell, Liam,” Niall doesn’t give him the chance to finish, snatching the sheet and examining it briefly before shaking his head, “Who even gave you permission to make a ruddy _list!?_ No, abso-fucking-lutely not.”

“But–,” the Alpha starts–truly scandalised. “This way we won’t be running about like a bunch of headless–,”

“How many times have I told you?! It’s called an _adventure!”_

Liam snorts, “More like _disaster_ waiting to happen.”

“Why don’t we put it to a vote?” Josh suggests reasonably. “Niall, read it aloud, and then we’ll each decide to keep it or trash it.”

“This is unnecessary,” the Alpha grumbles–everyone ignores him.

Amused as Harry, Louis listens as Niall reads the list, giggling between the activities, even mumbling _‘why’_ between too until his Omega urges him to continue. Finally, Ireland declares, “I vote _nay–never.”  Go figure._

Josh says, “Aye from me.”

Glaring, Niall pokes his tongue out, muttering, “You Alpha’s are _no_ fun.”

Then, Zayn intones, “Nay,” shrugging apologetically at Liam–who sputters in disbelief.

“Nay from me,” Harry agrees.

“Obviously it’s an aye from me,” Liam mutters grudgingly.

Lastly is Louis, who swallows, “Sorry, Ni, but it’s an aye from me as well.”

“We win!” Niall exclaims, and before anyone guesses his next actions, he tears the list into bits and pieces–feisty little bastard.

Almost pleasantly, _smug_ even, Liam rolls his eyes, “Good thing I’ve another copy, because I’m quite certain we tied.”

“Why aren’t I surprised?” Niall hisses, “Well, fine, what’s the tie-breaker then?”

“Um,” Louis chirps, “Why don’t each of us choose an activity from the list and from there, just go on with the trip?”

Just then, distracting them, another butler enters, the scent of bacon spreads through the room, and Niall shouts happily, “Opa!” Flinching, the butler startles (poor, unsuspecting bastard) at the pitch and the Alpha figures, at this point, they’re all used to it. As soon as the platter is set down, Niall starts piling slices onto his plate, humming contentedly.

“You know,” the Irish lad starts, swallowing a mouthful, “Louis’s suggestion wasn’t so bad. Compromise and all that–but, after we’ve all picked our favourites, the list is _so_ going. Sorry, not sorry, Li.”

Liam chews thoughtfully before murmuring, “Your loss, Ireland.”

“Where there’s bacon, young Alpha, there is no loss.” Brilliant words of Niall Horan, right there.

And none disagree, a first, as they’re _always_ differing, but stranger things have occurred. Once there isn’t any bacon left (mostly due to Niall) the Alpha stands, helping Louis up and muttering to the rest through a cheeky grin, “Alright, idiots, the car’s waiting outside. Get the hell out.”

Everyone groans, but listens nonetheless–Louis wasn’t included, but Niall drags him out so that Harry is alone again, reconstructing his shaky composure (it’s a lot to handle–this interacting Alpha role).

Though, considering Zayn hasn’t shot him any looks (though the Omega is possibly too caught up in Liam–who is equally as disgusting in his infatuation) he must be managing quite well.

Once Harry’s taken his duffle, aviators perched on his nose, he leaves the manor, too hyped to really give the driver his normal _fuck-off_ greeting or gestures. Somehow or another Niall ends up in the passenger seat, actually chatting with the driver who looks torn between mild discomfort and amusement.

Louis, of course, is beside him, facing the window, listening to the conversations that Zayn and Liam ignore, those two still fucking grinning at each other–it’s getting rather old, really, but the Alpha could care less, focused on his Omega’s feelings–slight anxiety, more delight.

Soon they’ve stopped at the skyline, where Styles-Junior (yes, he’s named his plane after himself, but he’s thinking about changing it too _Little-Tommo)_ waits. Opening their doors, the driver hands the luggage to security who will see that it boards the under-belly of his aeroplane. When his Omega steps out, his face shifts, the little _v_ returns with his confusion, “Um? Shouldn’t we be inside, like, um going through security or summat?”

Hearing this, Zayn snorts, “Lou, didn’t Hazza here tell you? It’s our motto, _‘go big or go home’.” Well, cat’s out the bag now, ain’t it Styles?_

“I own this aeroplane, Lou…” the Alpha explains uncomfortably.

“You _what?”_ the boy gasps, wide-eyed and miffed.

“Oh, yeah,” Zayn murmurs wickedly. “This idiot didn’t say so? Ah, Lou, let’s educate you.”

“Or not,” Harry growls at him, hugging Louis to his side, the Omega’s warmth seeps through their clothing, but the sensation is muted by the overwhelmed expression on his Omega’s face. Already it’s too much, as Harry knew it would be.

“No,” Louis breathes, glaring at him, “I wanna know.” And the Alpha glares at Zayn so fiercely the Omega flinches, only to gain his composure with an answering scowl that says ‘ _he-should-know.’_

“’ave you ever been in the air, Lou?”

Louis blinks, confused by the question, but responding even so, “Err, no?”

“Well, unlike Harry here, I won’t scare you half-to-death and claim we’re going to do flips or some other bullshit.” _How very considerate of you,_ Harry thinks darkly.

Turning to him again the Omega gasps, “You didn’t!” And…well, Louis makes him mercurial–the Alpha grins, “I plead the fifth on this one, kitten.”

 “He’s evil, really,” Zayn claims, throwing an arm around Louis’s shoulders to steer him towards the airlift, “So, as I was saying, few years back–four at the most–Harry’s flying lessons were about finished, and let me tell you, those weren’t his most memorable moments. I dunno why we were even mates honestly–he was fucking _mental._ Anyway, your Alpha decide at God-knows _what_ height, it’d be _fun_ to let go of the throttle controls. Insane I tell ya.” And the Alpha remembers that evening with flawless clarity; remembers the _gratification_ of such control, remembers, as the plane began to swoop that _he_ was the only thing between life and death–and the _adrenaline_ rushing through his veins was…addictive, providing his anticipation towards gliding-lesson’s.

“That’s not quite how it happened,” Harry defends lamely–futilely as neither listen to him.

 “Ignore him. Now I’m _this_ close to crying and…” 

Deciding it’s best to _stop_ listening the Alpha falls behind to ask flight-control their position in the skies, pleased to hear the path is fairly clear. Once they’re gone through pre-flight-checks, and he’s spoken with Simon, the exits are secured. From there Harry joins Louis, who’s sulking in the aisle seat of the fourth row.

Methodically, the Alpha fastens their seatbelts, waiting until Louis whirls to face him–consecration evident on his features. “You are _unbelievable._ I swear…Don’t you _ever_ risk your life like that again or you will suffer _my_ wrath.”

One more dismal piece inside breaks, adding to the collection of shattered bits, because the concern welling up within the Omega–whose paled–touches him…and it’s _terrifying,_ the depth of these feelings.

Somehow the Alpha manages to smile, watching the boys hand disappear within his own. “In my defense the look on Z’s face was priceless.”

“But not worth it,” Louis mumbles, and there’s hope dancing in his eyes–he’s probably questioning his mental stability, which is understandable, sometimes the Alpha even questions it.

“But not worth it,” Harry agrees, brushing his lips over each, nimble fingertip.

Just then Simon’s voice feeds through the intercom, “Good morning this is your pilot speaking…” the rest fades into the background as the Alpha watches Louis–who listens attentively until finally it’s over.

“I’m nervous,” Louis breathes then, once again pulling his bottom lip between his pointed canines–an oddly arousing nervous habit.

“Don’t be,” it’s _supposed_ to be soothing. “It’s always sketchy at first, but I promise it’ll be completely fine.”

“And then we’ll be in Paris,” the Omega breathes giddily–the rush of excitement returns.

“And then it’ll be LouisandHarry,” the Alpha breathes back. Through the flight those words keep the two grounded.

**∞∞∞**

            Beyond nervous, Louis curls into Harry’s side to the best of his capability with the slight block, whimpering into his shoulder all throughout lift-off. It’s not a pleasant feeling, he decides, but uses the Alpha’s steady calm to ground him–chanting in his mind, _LouisandHarry, HarryandLouis, Harry, Harry, Harry…_

Somewhere between reaching highest altitude and releasing his irritating restrain the Omega ends up nestled in the Alpha’s lap, lolling into sleep. And he dreams soundlessly, though it doesn’t last nearly long enough as the Omega’s woken by Harry offering him orange juice. They’ve begun their approach to whatever airport the Alpha’s requested.

Louis sips slowly, fatigued despite the fact that he’s slept most of the trip; and that’s when he allows himself to feel a modicum of excitement–because they’re going to be in Paris, and it’s going to be LouisandHarry. It’s almost surreal.

When the Alpha shifts him back into his seat, clasping the buckle again his nerves return with a vengeance. Mercifully it doesn’t last long, his tummy flutters and swooshes at their descent as Niall–wide-awake and excited as ever–rambles, “ _Look at all the lights! This is going to be so much fun…Remember last time–,”_ abruptly, the Irish Omega goes silent and Louis thinks Josh must be snogging him breathless– _ugh._

Even so Louis is too tired to comment or really _notice_ until he’s being shuffled into the real-world–then another vehicle). Harry’s in conversation with someone, voice deep and smooth and alluring–the Omega is extremely _blissed-out._

“We’re here?” he mumbles blearily.

“We are,” the Alpha murmurs, stroking his sleep-mussed hair. “Sleepy?”

“Mhm.”

“We’re almost there–can you manage to stay awake until then?” _Yes, I can be good._

“Mhm.” Then, its quiet–it feels like it lasts forever, until, at last, the car stops and they’re ushered inside what Louis assumes to be some sort of penthouse. And he’s so tired, it makes him clumsy as his feet catch and he stumbles. Someone curses, then the Alpha is there, arm circling his waist, husky voice at his ear, “Ah, ah. You promised.”

“I’m not sleepin’,” Louis protests, smiling dopily. “Besides, you said to stay awake until we got here. We’re here. So take me to bed, Styles.” And the Omega doesn’t realise quite how intimate it sounds until Harry inhales sharply, the hand at his hip tightens.  But the moment is ruined as the Alpha sighs, tells him to wait while he shows the others to their rooms–Josh and Niall’s together, Zayn and Liam apart–before returning shortly.

“And this…” Harry opens another door, tugging him inside, “is your room, kitten.”

Louis frowns. “My room? Aren’t…You’re not staying.” _You really messed up last night, Lou,_ his Omega seethes.

“We’ll talk about this in the morning, okay? Now, sleep, you’re tired. My room’s close by, if you need anything I’m there, yeah?” _You,_ Louis thinks, shutting his stinging eyes, and trying to banish reflex reaction that told him he’s unwanted and unwantable, _I need you._

But…Louis isn’t inclined to seem clingy, and doesn’t trust his voice, so the Omega nods. In seconds the Alpha’s shown him his luggage, already opened, and…lingers.  “I’m going to change…” somehow his voice doesn’t break, rather it’s quiet and believable.

“Okay…” the other says, planting a kiss on his forehead–shivering the Omega realises the tired that he suddenly craves is gone… _vanished, poof._ And Louis shivers–scared, anxious, _alone._

Once again Louis _refuses_ to be so pathetic and clingy. Methodically, the boy shreds his clothes to shrug into fresh pants, joggers, and simple t-shirt. There, the Omega grabs his Wolfy and slips into the huge (really, _why_ so much room?) bed, curling beneath the coverlet…And doesn’t sleep.

Doesn’t sleep, and doesn’t sleep some more until his head aches from exhaustion and he isn’t thinking, isn’t worried about seeming clingy, isn’t worried about anything but fitting himself  in his Alpha’s arms.  Yes, poor Wolfy can manage one night alone.

Even anxious and scared the Omega opens his door, and keeps his hand connected to the wall, searching aimlessly when he runs into something.

That _something_ hisses, “Shit,” then, “Lou, is that you?”

Already flushed the Omega toys with the hem of his top, “S-Sorry…I…Can…Can you help me f-find Harry’s room? Sorry.”

“Um,” Zayn fumbles, “Yeah…Um, sure.”   _Very awkward._

A short-distance and Zayn places his hand on the handle, muttering, “Um…So, uh…G’night, I guess?”

“Yeah, t-thanks…Err, g’night…” when the other Omega goes to walk away Louis feels guilty, wondering if Zayn couldn’t sleep…or wasn’t comfortable…or needed someone to turn too, “Wait…Um, why are you up? I-I mean I can…like…keep you com–,”

“Actually, I couldn’t sleep,” this time, the embarrassment rings in his tone, “And I was going to um…you know…maybe bunk with Li…or…Yeah, yeah I was going to do that.” _Oh._

“Oh. Well, okay, um, thanks again…Goodnight,” smiling in the Omegas direction before entering Harry’s room–his scent smothers the space, lacing the oxygen, and his Omega purrs happily because _this_ is his room.

Giving into his Omega, Louis locates the bed and crawls into it artfully, one hand roaming until it makes contact with the blazing, taunt skin of his Alpha’s shoulder.  Gasping, the Omega goes to snatch his hand back when one, much larger closes around his wrist, and the Alpha rumbles, “Lou. What are you doin’?” Louis’s heart begins to race.

“I-I couldn’t sleep without you,” he mumbles shyly when Harry hums, yanking him down and relaxing again. Compliantly, Louis snuggles beneath the heavenly scented throw, so close to the heat of Harry’s bare chest–his head swims.

But the proximity isn’t enough–he squirms until his fingers wisps experimentally over the Alpha’s chest. Tensing, Harry shakes his head, but doesn’t move, tightening his arms, “Missed you.”

“Goodnight, Haz,” Louis breathes, placing one feather-soft kiss over his bare pec before letting his eyes fall shut.

And the Omega comes to terms with reality–and reality is that it’s _him_ who’s giving his heart away, falling hard and fast and unable to even catch a breath. But his Alpha is holding him, warding the panic, because even for a little while, or just tonight, Harry’s holding _him._

It’s there–this feverish feeling that Louis isn’t ever going to forget. Even with the impending heartache, knowing it won’t _work_ because the two belong on whole different poles and continents and planets, even _universes_ apart, Louis’s never experienced something so…euphoric, so aching _lovely._

Like this, cuddled in Harry’s warm cascade, the Omega’s drifts into idyllic dreams.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Cute or what?
> 
> What do you think will happen in Paris? How do you think it will go! I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> :) AGAIN CHEERS TO YOU ALL FOR STICKING AROUND (i know it's a long journey and will continue to be)
> 
> Talk to me! .xx


	14. Part Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darlings! It's been so, so long! At least it feels like so, so long ! 
> 
> Where too begin-oh, yes, THANKING YOU ALL! You're amazing and kind and like the best fans anyone could ask for! So thank you all!:* Next, of course so much thanks to my brilliant Betas (heehee alliteration;) -nerd alert) MoonDynasty (smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) and Fondlemezayn.tumblr.com . As usual, both were SO MUCH HELP! Like they deserve medals for putting up with me haha! 
> 
> Anyways, THIS IS A BLOODY LONG CHAPTER! SO BLOODY LONG THAT I HAD TO CUT IT *AGAIN*. YES, THERE IS GOING TO BE A PART THREE! I'm sorry! But it's a must! 
> 
> So, tell me how it goes!:) .xx

**W** hen the Alpha wakes, it’s early, the fresh sunlight streams through the gap of his curtains. With an audible groan of protest, Harry shifts, then curses–realisation dawns, he’s not alone.  There, nestled inches from his body, his Omega mewls, and through heavy lids the Alpha watches Louis seal the insignificant space again–distantly, his ever-acting mind analyses the reaction, finding it’s one of the many indications a bonded-Omega displays. Inside, his Alpha claws at him, whirling intensely–desire, and need, and something _more,_ something neither can identify nor understand.

So, the Alpha _doesn’t_ even try to, gazing down at his Omega, whose eyes are draped by his feathery-chestnut fringe, lashes cashing shadows over his sharp cheeks. So delicate, and young and _innocent–_ an innocence that seems to glow from within him; bright, _pure_ innocence Harry wants to both _taint_ and preserve.

Even so, this is _wrong;_ this– _them,_ so close, sharing the same intimate space should not have happened again–once Louis crawled into bed, the Alpha should have grabbed the young boy, carried him to _his_ room, and returned here, _alone._ Except…Harry _couldn’t–_ wasn’t physically, emotionally, or mentally capable. And so the Alpha didn’t; instead, he allowed the threads in his heart to come apart until the beating in his chest died down to be replaced with the Omega’s…and felt it down to his very _soul._

The misplaced chips and fragmented pieces shift–only slightly, but enough that he notices. Harry notices too much in that short-lived moment before the bone-deep panic conquers his lungs. Because this isn’t _right_ , isn’t supposed to _happen…_ and Harry doesn’t _need_ fixing, _Hell,_ he isn’t even…

Hissing, the Alpha twists, this time plastering the boy to his frame, snaking his arm around Louis’s waist and nuzzling his throat, inhaling there, breathing in the clarity his scent provides. “ _Mine,”_ his voice cracks mercilessly.

Sighing, the boy smiles sleepily, murmuring, “Get off of me, you great ogre. I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

“No,” his response ends in a sigh, and with that last breath the Alpha rolls onto his back again, drawing the heel of his palm over his eyes, causing bursts of colours to materialize, “Wake up. We’re going on an adventure today.”

“We’ve not even gotten to the list yet,” Louis mumbles.

“I say fuck the list.”  

“And nobody asked you,” the Omega grumbles, before burrowing impossibly close, gentle breaths tress over Harry’s collarbone, and instantly his cock takes interest in the proximity, the sharp sensations, as it strains against the thin material of the…coverlet. _Christ,_ he’s _naked_ in bed with Louis, who’s utterly unaware and–the lack thereof clothing isn’t surprising as Harry could never stand to sleep with them on, but Jesus, he’s fucking _naked_ with...

Considerably light-headed, working on perfunctory motions, the Alpha manages to grab one of the pillows and shield the evidence of his arousal (because there’s a chance one of those twats, ah Hell, _Niall–_ honest, the Irish Omega is the only one brave enough–will barge in) though Louis’s high-pitched protest ruptures his thought-process. “ _Oi!_ That was _mine,_ you thief!” And then the Omega has to–of _bloody course–_ sit up and place those dainty hands on the pillow, tugging insistently.

Yes, the Alpha thinks, this is his life now–pent-up sexual frustration, perfectly (note the sarcasm) timed hard-on’s and innuendoes– _fan-fucking-tastic._

“Stop it, Louis,” the husky command skids between his clenched-teeth. Still, the sleep-ridden boy is relentless in his endeavor to reclaim his pillow–even with several more piled beside him. With the inkling that Louis _lives_ to set him on edge, to test his self-discipline, his jaw starts to tic in time with his rapid, provoked heartbeat.

“Fine,” Louis snivels, then rests his head on the feather-filled cushion…So damned _close._ And the Omega looks so provocative like this, oblivious to his aching cock– _I am going insane,_ Harry decides, wondering whether anyone’s felt this way before–so wildly attracted, so absolutely _bonded_ to someone that it drives them _mad._

Because, before this very moment, Harry hasn’t, and now, he reckons it’s much like the buzz, nevermore. And despite this, his Alpha thrills, envisioning the moment Louis realises–flushed shock, wide-eyes, beyond stunning. _Get it together, Styles._

Curling his hands into fists the Alpha tries, “Little one…” _If you don’t leave this room in the next two minutes I might come apart–in so many ways,_ “I do believe there’s an adventure awaiting us.”

“Five more minutes,” the boy pleads, those cobalt irises don’t focus, but land on him nonetheless. Then, quietly, gently, “Please, Hazza.” Of course the initial thought of response is _‘anything you desire’._ Except _no,_ the Alpha is no one’s bitch–well, maybe Louis’s…Sort of.

“And what do I get out of this?” there’s much pride to be taken as Harry doesn’t miss a beat.

Surprised, even _shocked,_ the beseeching look nearly falters, “Isn’t making _me_ happy enough?”

In pretense, like he’s actually considering this, the Alpha strokes his bottom-lip, then moments later, murmurs decisively, “No. In this case, it isn’t.”

Just before Louis replies, his face scrunches adorably. “I’m offended.”

“You’re not allowed to be,” Harry declares. “Your happiness means very much to me, as you already _know._ Therefore, I refuse to cave–take it or leave it, kitten.” 

“Fine,” Louis says, pouting now. “What d’you want?” _You–always you._

“I want…” the Alpha pauses to stare hungrily at the boy’s plush, jutting bottom-lip, “you to kiss me.”

Though it’s expected, even _deserved,_ the instant shut-down stings, “Nevermind. I’ve changed my–,”

“You’ve already accepted.”

“I don’t care,” the Omega snaps defensively–welling up with too many emotions to even center on. “Last time I attempted _that_ it turned into something else and then my constant incapability’s were laughed at. So pardon me for not wanting a repeat.” _Ouch–_ the Alpha _really_ regrets being unable to openly accept such emotions–his own shitty incapability.

“Try it again,” Harry urges quietly, brushing Louis’s cheekbone with his knuckles.

“No,” Louis breathes, shaking his head on the pillow–by now Harry’s throbbing cock is long forgotten, well… _almost,_ “I…I _can’t–_ not when…after…” 

 “I won’t apologise, Lou–not when you were so…determined to kiss _me,_ like I’d ever deny _you,_ had you indicated…or asked…But that’s beside the point, how about this? I promise never to pull that again. Now will you _kiss me?”_

“No.” And those emotions fluctuate with his thoughts as Louis smiles timidly, “You kiss me.”

“That’s not very reasonable,” Harry reminds. “Although very clever, I must say. Still, you’re not _asking_ –and you won’t either, because you, my little kitten, are _stubborn.”_

“So,” Louis sighs, the tip of his pink little tongue darting out to moisturize his lips, _anticipating_ Harry will cave, but not this time. “You won’t kiss me, then?”

“You won’t kiss _me,”_ Harry corrects cheekily, smirking now. “Ah, well, always next time. I’m not going…any…where?” Abruptly, the Omega straddles him, resting above the Alpha on his knees–achingly _closer_ now to his ever-growing erection. Swallowing, Harry shifts as to rearrange himself, but it’s pointless, there’s nowhere the bloody thing can go.

“Hold still, Alpha, I’m trying to _kiss you.”_ At the title, Harry’s breath catches, and his thoughts, his _need,_ spirals, vivid and alluring, and ‘ _use your imagination’_ is the Alpha’s latest talent–as he _imagines_ drawing the boy down on his cock, imagines how Louis’s perfect little hole would take his length, his _knot,_ imagines bruising sun-kissed skin with his lips and rememorising his Omega’s sweet, saccharine taste both above and below and–somehow his hips manage to remain still.

Close…close…close still, the boy drags the wait out (through the fog, his intuition grasps that Louis isn’t teasing him, not this time, rather the Omega is _afraid._ Of _what_ is the unknown), his irresistible perfume _thick_ and persuasive around them as the Alpha–virtually spellbound–places his hands on the boy’s hips, tugging so that Louis’s mouth ( _fucking finally)_ makes contact with his.

Like any _sane_ male would, as the Omega’s ridiculously innocent, the Alpha governs the kiss, light pressure, intermingled breaths. In efforts to quell Louis’s hesitance, he cups the boy’s face in one hand and pours every ounce of affection into the connection–silently apologising for his irrational behaviour three nights before. And when Louis sighs, melting against him, Harry–ever-the-masochist–entertains the thought that maybe, the boy’s finally realising this is where he _belongs._

 _For me, only for me,_ his thoughts rage again with this knowledge, though before Harry ruins it (as he does mostly everything) the Alpha drags his mouth away, to the Omega’s temple, where he breathes in that heady scent. “I don’t want to miss anymore moments with you, Lou. So, I’m going to ask again–and again, and again until I won’t have to any longer. Won’t you accompany me on this adventure and every-single-one in the near future?”

Shivering, Louis nods, then–to Harry’s disappointment–stands, and wanders to the door, placing one hand on the handle before twisting a bit so those irises are on him again–the Alpha thinks even without vision the Omega sees right through him. “I’d be honored to, Styles. But, first I’m going to clean up, then when I come back I’m taking you up on those five minutes.”

Warm, male affection, the Alpha nods–the boy is pleased with him, not because the damned emotion-detector still blares, but because Louis’s mouth hints at one of those smiles, those eyes dancing with emotion.

And when Louis leaves–so does something else–and the Alpha realises _that’s_ where his heart disappears to so often. Which is fine, Harry decides, even though it _isn’t_ –it’s anything _but_ because too many pieces of the ruddy thing have been shabbily stitched back together–some due to his parents cruel rips at the seams, and other’s just because _–_ but against his best-judgment the Alpha trusts Louis to mend the straining stitches and remove them once the wounds have (if possible) healed. At this point, that’s all Harry _can_ do.

**∞∞∞**

            **T** urns out Louis _does_ make good on those five minutes. Except it’s not exactly how the Omega intended–not at all. By the time Louis starts towards Harry’s room again the Alpha is clearly awake and padding about the kitchen, cooking (by the sounds of it) and chatting quietly with Liam. And _really,_ Louis thinks, the traitor _would_ do this.  Impulsively, the Omega whirls around, prepared to stomp into the kitchen and demand his Alpha’s undivided attention, to _bait_ him into cuddling Louis through his five minute kip. Instead, curiosity seizes him, and he remains carefully out of sight. Honest, _what could the two Alphas even have to talk about?_ Especially his Alpha and _Liam_ –the males are practically polar-opposites, responsible and reckless, modest and arrogant…Yet, despite those qualities, the two just might balance each other–well, that depends on whether one of the two doesn’t end up garroting the other with their own viscera.

Now Louis creeps closer, and flattens against the wall, listening to his Alpha’s hushed cackles.

“Oh come on, Styles,” Liam voices lightly. “I know there’s _something_ going on. I mean look at _you_ and that shit-eating grin.”

“Take the piss, Li,” his Alpha murmurs, mild amusement colouring his tone. “Or it’s _your_ dick for breakfast.” At this, Louis’s nose scrunches in disgust– _Alphas;_ they’re all such bizarre creatures. 

Liam snorts–mirroring his aversion, and though it’s _his_ pride on the line, his best mate doesn’t sound the least bit offended. “You’re still grinnin’ Styles. Really, I’m concerned, shall I call the shrink? Or perhaps Louis could–?”

“You know, Liam, perhaps I’m thinking _dirty_ things…But since you _insist_ I suppose I _could_ describe some. But, be warned, once I’ve revealed all the naughty details you’ll not be able to look at my Omega again without cringing.” _Naughty details...?_  Louis gasps, colour flooding his cheeks as his thoughts begin to scramble, achingly clouded beneath the current thrilling through his bloodstream.

Somehow the exchange continues to eke past his static-ridden thoughts, “No, I don’t think so. This isn’t the _‘I’m –imagining-my-Omega-on-my-knot’_ type grin. This is… _different.”_ Squirming against the wall, the Omega’s muscles clench tightly, deliciously, deep inside him. And the static begins to fade, the word _knot_ causes his Omega to purr, though Louis doesn’t understand _why–_ from what he’s heard an Alpha’s knot isn’t at all pleasurable, simple-Alpha-anatomy to increase the chances of procreation (despite Niall insistently claiming otherwise–honestly, what does Niall know? Ireland finds pleasure in the foulest of foods).

“Fuckin’ Hell, _fine,_ say I tell you, yeah, will you quit pestering me? Remembering, I’m the one cooking these pancakes–and whatever poison ends up in them will be _your_ liability.” And the barter is _so_ Harry–cool threats, apathetic tone.

“Good point, well made, Styles. Alright, I’m listening.”

“LouisandHarry,” the words are soft, and there’s something in his voice, something _more,_ unfathomable even. Dazed, the Omega doesn’t realise what the Alpha’s said until, with a shock, Louis inhales sharply, thousands of butterflies stretch their wings and flutter erratically in his belly.

“I’m sorry _what?”_ Seemingly perplexed, Liam’s inquiry rips the moment in two.

“It’s our…thing I guess. LouisandHarry–it’s _us_ and…” _And it’s ours._

“Jesus Christ,” there’s misplaced amusement in his best-mate’s voice. “You. Are. _So._ Whipped!” _Whoa._ Without warning something clatters (and breaks, by the crash that follows) and then Liam’s outright crowing, secondly wheezing, “Alright, _okay!_ You…keep, uh, doing your Louis and Harry…thing.” Another winded cackle– _why is this so freakin’ funny?_ “I…I’m going to wake up _my_ Omega.”

“Well, I _was_ prepared to hurt you, but on that note, I think Z’s wrath might outdo mine. Good _fuckin’_ luck, mate,” the arrogance there is palpable–obviously Harry knows something Liam doesn’t, which Louis supposes is only _fair._

Grumbling, his best-mate’s footsteps approach, and Louis, working on instinct (no way those two are going to discover him eavesdropping) starts towards the kitchen; his knees shaky, tummy (still) packed with butterflies and his heart is in his mouth, thumping a dramatic uneven beat. 

At the entrance, the Omega lingers, not wanting to interrupt, though almost instantly Harry sights him–stopping whatever he was doing to plant a kiss on his forehead, one hand gripping his hip (unknowingly holding Louis upright). “Those five minutes worth it?”

“Yes,” his voice is breathy–but Louis is too delighted to care, “Dreamt–was a lovely dream, actually.”

“Hmm,” the Alpha squeezes his hip–the heat leaches through the thin material of Louis’s joggers.  “What about?”

Without permission, his hand lifts, and his fingers tremble as they glide over the Alpha’s cheek, “You…and me. HarryandLouis.” Or simply _Harry._

“Mm. On an adventure?”

Cheeks warm, Louis hedges, “Sort of.”

“Sort of? Now I’m curious–explain.”

Somehow the Omega’s face isn’t on fire– _yet–_ but Louis doesn’t have the courage to ask him now. Maybe, his Omega hopes, when the Alpha is exhausted, and holding him, Louis can bring it up without feeling unbearably mortified. “Later–I’ll tell you later.”

“Okay,” the Alpha accepts this, releasing him abruptly, “I can handle that–suspense and all.”

“Wow,” Louis gasps, smiling sweetly in Harry’s direction. “Harry Styles, finally exercising _patience.”_  

And the Alpha doesn’t disappoint, growling–light and teasing, before coming at him.

Louis giggles, and scrambles backwards, stopping only when Harry’s stopped, shaking his head in mock displeasure. “See! I can move fast as you long-legged giants! Ta-Da!”

In response the Alpha applauds politely, and the Omega bows gracefully, grinning–unable to resist playful Harry.

When the Alpha takes another step forward, Louis takes one back. “And for your next trick?” Harry prompts, still teasing.

“I’m going to,” with a fresh burst of excitement, Louis twirls one finger, motioning for Harry to turn around–and when he’s sure the Alpha’s done so the Omega bounds forward, stretching on his tiptoes and clamping both hands over Harry’s eyes, “Disappear!” And with another peal of giggles, Louis darts for the exit–but of course Harry _is_ quicker, and swiftly Louis’s swept up, and off his feet, squealing. Within seconds the Omega finds himself bridal-style in Harry’s arms. “Cooking time,” the Alpha declares triumphantly.

“Put me down! Or I’ll turn that pretty face into a hideous…frog face!”

“Pretty!” he laughs loudly, freely, and he sounds so _young_ , so carefree, his laughter is infectious.

“Ugh–arrogant arse! Put me down!” Louis tries and fails to sound disapproving. His struggle is futile–Harry’s arms are firmly clamped beneath his thighs–and for some reason Louis cannot stop giggling.

“You _fancy_ this arrogant arse,” the Alpha claims sardonically–beginning to walk away from the kitchen, through the lower-foyer and up the stairway. _Of course I do,_ Louis thinks as his heart melts, his insides liquefying.

“I _fancy_ my feet to be touching the ground,” the Omega attempts to snarl at him, but it’s not very effective as Louis can’t keep the mirth out of his voice. 

“But you fancy _me_ more, yeah?” _More than anything._

“Depends–say I agree, will I get cuddles tonight?”

“Cuddles!” the Alpha exclaims, and once again Louis swoops; this time, in efforts break free, the Omega goes to use his size to his advantage, except somehow his legs– _traitors!–_ loop around the other’s waist. Now, it’s too late, his back is to the wall, and Harry Styles crowds him.  Even breathless and giddy, Louis is more than aware of those adept fingers clasped over his thighs, supporting his weight, so close to his bum now. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were using me for my cuddles. But that’s not it, right, Lou?”

Louis struggles to breathe–no chance the Omega will be able to _speak._ Betraying him, his body unwinds, and experimentally, his hand tangles in the Alpha’s waves. And it’s soundless, feels like _forever_ as Harry stares, the atmosphere between them slowly shifts, evolves, _charges…_ Helpless, the Omega bites his lip as desire, for this gorgeous, arrogant Alpha seizes him with a vengeance, igniting his blood, shallowing his breath, aching below his waist. Distantly, the Omega’s aware his reactions are reflected in Harry’s stance, in his eyes even.

In seconds the Alpha responds to his body’s silent pleas, gripping Louis’s hip in one hand, bringing them incredibly closer. Involuntarily, the Omega’s hold tightens, but then Harry’s mouth claims his own. It’s not slow, or careful like this morning, this is desperate, _blazing,_ and Louis gasps–craving the Alpha’s taste, his _need._ And when Harry’s tongue meets Louis’s, the Omega whines, responding fervently. One of the Alpha’s hands moves into his hair, tugging so Louis raises his face, and then Harry’s possessing his mouth again, so _forceful, urgent,_ so– Without warning, too _soon,_ the Alpha stops, resting his weight against the Omega as to hold him immobile, though that’s already accomplished since Louis is centered on dragging precious air into his lungs, clinging to Harry.

“Do you fancy me, kitten?” his voice is so _deep,_ demanding Louis’s attention. 

“More than I should,” Louis manages, squeezing his eyes shut because right now that’s his only shield against Harry’s’ intense gaze.

“Thought so,” his voice becomes hushed with emotion, but before the Omega’s thoughts have the chance to reconstruct, Harry is kissing him again. Soft, persuasive kisses trailing from his temple to the corner of his mouth. “Please,” he doesn’t know what he’s begging for, but the scent of dark spices–the _bonding_ scent–causes his head to swim. “Please, please, please…” 

Senses clouded and indistinct, the Omega doesn’t realise the nearest entrance swings open until someone barrels into the foyer. Around him, the Alpha tenses, and Louis, reacting to his Alpha’s displeasure, squirms. “Holy _Christ!”_ its Liam’s thunderous voice.

Harry growls, the sound animates from his chest, and vulnerably, the Omega hides his face in the Alpha’s throat, whimpering as the scent intensifies. Distantly, another door opens.

“What’re you going on abo–? Oh. Oh, well, fuck…” now it’s Josh’s voice–one of the two hems uncomfortably. Why won’t they just _leave?_ Louis wonders, frustrated and wavering and _needy._

“Yeah,” strangely enough Liam takes on a placating tone, rooted in place. And the Omega wants to cry as his hips circle, desperate for _something,_ something onlyHarry can give him. “Harry. Haz, you there, mate? We’re not going to…um, touch him. Swear it. We’ll…um…we’ll just go?”

Again, Harry growls, this time the sound is threatening and this forces Louis into reality–his heart leaps in alarm, but only for the others, the Alpha’s touch remains gentle on his thigh.

“Haz,” Louis breathes, tugging Harry’s curls to get his attention again. Without hesitance, to the Omega’s immense satisfaction, the Alpha instantly faces him–and then his mouth–possessively, _hungrily–_ attaches to Louis’s. Once again, the sensation submerges his thoughts. Louis sighs, and without any resistance, his lips part, begging–wait, a little voice shouts, _no._

 “No,” the Omega breathes, shaking his head to the best of his ability. “Harry…” halting his words the Alpha snarls, and inwardly his Omega whines. Unconsciously, his hips twitch, wanting, needing…

“Harry,” Louis gasps again, using the last of his willpower to extract his hands–which were clenching the Alpha’s curls, so fixed his fingers _ache–_ and place them over his chest (willing himself not to wonder over the muscular planes, not to explore…) “I mean it– _stop._ You…” _if you say this he’s never going to touch us again_ his Omega warns, but Louis has no _choice._ “You’re hurting me,” the words are _shattered_ , because it’s the _exact_ opposite, he doesn’t want to ever stop, he’s so close to…to that _something_ his body craves, and…and…the magic words, they _work._

With a hurt noise, Harry tears away, his head turns fractionally towards their audience, “ _Mine.”_

Then, in seconds the support keeping him vertical disappears, and the Omega almost collapses, were it not for the hand that’s gripping his upper-arm. As soon as his balance is restored, the Alpha snatches his hand back, and storms away–another door slams shut.

“I…no,” Louis breathes, stunned and so _upset._ “Sorry…I–I should go. Let me, um, go check on–,”

“Er, actually, I _wouldn’t–”_ Josh starts only to be interrupted by someone shoving into the foyer.

“Fuckin’ _Alphas,”_ it’s that memorable Irish lilt. “Get _away_ , the lot of you! Piss off! Nosy bastards! There’s _nothing_ to see here. I am going to have a word with Louis,” his tone suggests there is no choice.

“But,” Josh tries to protest but something the Irish lad does shuts him up, because without much notice, the other Omega grabs his wrist and–as Louis is too stunned to do anything about it–drags him downstairs, through more doors.

Outside, on the terrace, the cool, clean air gradually causes the clouds to dissipate from his mind. Inside, his Omega is two-seconds from a breakdown, but Louis’s mind can’t seem to catch up.

“Louis,” the Irish Omega says, peculiarly stern. “Are you listening?”

“Um,” Louis tries. “I feel a bit faint.”

Sighing fondly, Niall urges him into some cushiony seat, before murmuring, “I don’t doubt it. It’s so strange…”

“What’s strange?” Louis asks, not really listening, though the Omega’s next words grasp his actual attention.

“Well, not _strange,_ but… _impressive._ I’m _impressed.”_ Like that’s _so_ odd–his best-mate’s impressed with the _ordinary_. “I think…by the scent, Harry’s in for a rut. But it’s only all over _you,_ I can’t smell it otherwise…which is _weird_ and, if he’s suppressing it then very… _impressive.”_

 _A rut?_ the words shift and twist in his mind, then Louis pales.

“W-What’s impressive about that?” he asks seconds too late, even though it’s the _last_ topic Louis wants to take on.

“Besides _everything?_ ” Ignorance _must_ be bliss, the Omega thinks, as Niall sounds extremely pleased with this discussion. “Harry’s fighting it quite well. I mean, I knew the Alpha’s of Council…He’s around _you_ and he’s not showing the signs–he’s his usual tosser-self.”

Without reason, Louis deflates–despite the fact that he’s _extremely_ afraid of an Alpha’s rut, doesn’t want to _remember_ that particular aggression. Because, Louis _knows–_ knows their instincts overcome their will, their _minds._ Because he’s _seen_ it–an Alpha in a rut is dangerous, an Alpha in a rut is _ugly_ and volatile and…and… “Louis! Calm down! This isn’t like _that!_ Jesus, you’re doing it again! Like you did with Liam! You’re placing all Alpha’s in the category of _one._ ”

“Shut up, just _stop,_ ” the Omega bites sharply, crossing his arms like he’s angry when really he’s holding the damaged pieces together; the terrorweighs down on him, threatening to send his sense crumbling once he let’s go. “Just…I…I’m just scared, Ni.” 

“You shouldn’t be,” the Irish Omega tells him, “Lou, Harry’s _trained_ to control his body’s reactions–to force his Alpha to yield. He’s not _–_ he _knows_ what he’s doing, or he wouldn’t have taken you here. Tell me, do you trust your Alpha?”

“Yes,” Louis blurts, not having to think about it, because he _does;_ only his body…doesn’t.

“Okay, then,” Niall says. “Now, repeat after me.  There’s no reason to worry.” _Yeah, right._

“There’s…n-no reason to worry,” the Omega whispers, used to Niall’s techniques, they’ve _always_ comforted him, or perhaps it’s simply _Niall–_ most likely the latter. Mercifully, this time isn’t any different, as minutes later Louis _is_ relaxed, grinning stupidly as Niall tells him, “ _I swear!_ Wouldn’t go out meself so I sent Josh! And then the idiot comes back with this fuckin’ _grin,_ so I’m like, _spill_ and he says…he says he caught Zayngoing into _Liam’s_ room! Liam! Who once snubbed his nose at anyone who crossed the Council’s principles! _Hypo-fucking-crite!_ ”

Unable to help it, Louis bursts into delighted laughter, stifling his giggles with the back of his hand so the others don’t come out to investigate, but _honestly,_ of course that would happen. Poor, poor Zayn, Louis thinks, understanding the ‘ _unmated Omega point of view’,_ because not _everyone_ has the privilege of sleeping with their Alpha’s shielding them–not everyone’s going to be mated in only months time, and, more times than not, many couples are denied the Councils blessings and forced to part ways because _nobody_ dares to second-guess their Council’s unbreakable word, because surely it’s impossible to be _meant,_ or in love, when the Council says otherwise.  

“Well?” Louis asks when Niall doesn’t continue. “Did you get your snack?” 

“Don’t be _dense!_ Of course I did! And I got another treat afterwards.” There’s something extremely pleased in the Irish Omega’s voice, and…his own Omega takes interest, stirring as Louis’s heartbeat quickens. 

“Treat?” his voice is small, both because he’s confused _,_ and this conversation needs to be kept from prying ears.

“Mhm,” Niall doesn’t need pressing. “He ate me out.”

At the words, Louis flushes to the tips of his ears, whispering (he’s never had this conversation before, _okay?_ Niall’s tried, because he’s _Niall,_ but Louis would always latch onto Liam, who would eventually quiet the Omega somehow), “A-Ate you out? Like…down there?”

“Mhm,” the Irish lad hums knowingly, and Louis squirms in his seat. “Its…its _good._ Better than that, mind-blowingly _amazing,_ ” his accent thickens, and the Omega figures he’s remembering that ‘ _mind-blowingly amazing’_ sexual-act.

“Isn’t it…? Aren’t you like uncomfortable, being so exposed and like helpless?” Louis manages to ask without stuttering.

“Lou,” this time the Irish lad sighs in exasperation–he’s never been patient with Louis’s breakdowns or naiveté, which Louis doesn’t resent him for, because Niall doesn’t get on well with other people’s pain, and during the _‘coping’_ stage of his adolescence the Irish Omega didn’t leave his side _once_ in public, or high school, or _ever_ …and it means _everything_ to Louis considering Niall’s popularity. “I _trust_ Josh to take care of me. He’s my Alpha–he wouldn’t hurt me, babe. And I’m not helpless, Lou, I have a voice. Were I to, by some off chance, tell Josh to stop, he would _listen._ Because a _proper_ Alpha puts _your_ needs and wants and feelings before his own.” But…Louis blinks rapidly, his eyelids matching his heart rate as his mind processes this, torn between wanting to believe those words and unable too because… _how_ can this be true?

What’s been ingrained into him is shouting that Omega’s are _inferior_ and their only purpose is breeding, because the Alpha is _so undeniably_ superior, and the Omega’s _must_ follow them (the Council even _seconds_ this–only consisting of Alphas). Because it’s _true–_ his Mum had too, and the only Alpha Louis’s seen with his _eyes,_ the only Alpha he’d _trusted…_ had eventually ruined him. Ruined him and ruined him and Louis could do _nothing_ against it, couldn’t be what the Alpha expected him to be, Louis couldn’t get his sight back, couldn’t protect his girls, couldn’t stop being so _useless._

“Louis,” his best-mate’s voice is soft–and Louis knows the Omega’s thoughts have returned to the times Louis’s tried endlessly to _forget_. “Lou, please, don’t cry! I-I won’t talk about it anymore! Promise!”

Breathing unsteady, the Omega lurches forward, and clings to his favourite Omega, sniveling into his throat pathetically. “I’m trying to believe it, Ni. I t-trust Harry, I swear I do, but I…I can’t…” _let this happen to me again._

“No, Louis,” grip strong, Niall holds him, voice firm, “No. You are _not_ being pressured into _anything._ Babe…I _know_ it’s been so fuckin’ hard, but it’s going to take _time–_ you’ve had time to heal, but you haven’t had time to learn to…to _trust_ an Alpha again. And that’s _okay,_ Harry will _wait,_ because, even twatish he’s so bloody gone for you. You realise this, right?” the Omega pets him, touch gentle and soothing.

“No,” Louis cries, more unwelcome tears trickle down his cheeks. “Y-You said it yourself. I’m so… _unappealing_ that he can’t even go into his rut!”

“Louis William Tomlinson, shut the _fuck_ up! That is _not_ what I said–I told you, the Council’s taught their Alpha’s to be stronger than basic-instinct! Weren’t you there only twenty minutes ago!? My God Louis that Alpha’s _claimed_ you!”

“C-Claimed me?” the Omega whispers, his eyebrows crease.

“Yes, silly! That whole _snog-your-wits-away,_ caveman _‘mine’_ declaration of _ownership…_ ”

“N-no, Niall, that’s _Harry–_ he does that all the time,” Louis mumbles, frowning as the tears slow, distracted from the memories.

“Louis, you are so fuckin’ _green!_ How can _my_ best-mate be so fuckin’ green? That’s unacceptable!” At those words, the Omega’s frown deepens, he’s not understanding anything.

“Okay, Lou, listen–Liam and Josh? They’re Alpha’s, yeah, which, according to basic knowledge means they’re threats,” Louis opens his mouth to defend them, knowing they’d never intentionally _hurt him,_ but Niall continues, “I _know_ they wouldn’t hurt you! Lemme finish! As I was sayin’, they wouldn’t hurt you…but to an Alpha’s mindset, they _could,_ not being bonded or mated through the Council, _knot_ you. No, they wouldn’t, but in Harry’s mind, they _could_ and that’s threat enough. So, when his mouth was all over you, had you begging and whining, it was his way of showing them that _‘hey-fuckers-this-boy-is-mine-and-wants-my-knot’._ Therefore, he’s claimed you.”

 _Oh,_ the Omega thinks, mind overloaded with information, and his Omega prances about, all smug, claimed delight. “Understand now?”

“I-I think so,” his voice is cautious. “But it doesn’t make _sense,_ this is the most he’s touched me…like _ever._ How do I make him _want_ me, Niall?”

“Louis, he already _does–,”_

“N-No,” he protests weakly, his hands tangling between them. “I mean… _want me want me.”_

There’s a short beat of silence before–, “Oh! You mean want you arse! Love, I’m quite certain that’s already taken care of.”

“But Ni!” Louis groans miserably. “He doesn’t ever _act_ on anything! I can’t even touch his _shoulder_ without him tensing up! I-I want him to touch me…like…intimately. Only a little though!”

Within seconds the Irish Omega dissolves into giggles–now Louis is _certain_ he’s burst into flames he’s _so_ embarrassed.

“You poor, poor thing!” Niall wheezes. “You’re _hormonal!_ Awe, baby Louis is _finally_ ready to explore the land of pleasure! Oh my God, my babe is growing up!” Obnoxious as ever, the Omega begins to sob spectacularly.

“ _This,”_ Louis mumbles, wilting in the seat again, “is why I don’t tell you anything.”

“Why I never!” Niall huffs, then, like it’s the most apparent thing in the world, “Really, Lou, it isn’t so very difficult! Just…be _seductive_!”

“Seductive?” the dirty word is only a breath leaving his mouth.

“Yep! Dress a bit scantily; touch ‘im more. Hell, I reckon he’d be raging if you…Well, fuck! Brilliant! I am _so_ bloody brilliant!”

“So you keep reminding me,” Louis scoffs, warding his blush– it’s like some sort of defense mechanism…or something.

“Hmm, be honest, how far are you prepared to go?”

Confused, Louis responds slowly, “I-I dunno? Um, what…what’s there do even do? I-I mean I certainly don’t want to…to um…you know. But I want more kisses and cuddles and…er…?”

“Oh, Lou, what’re we gonna do with you?”

“Um,” the Omega flounders uselessly.

“There’s _tons_ of foreplay, Louis! _Tons_. You could get his cock wet! Or he could get yours. And he could touch you some…your arse, your dick, your tummy. Or he could kiss you there too. And eat you out! Ohh, my personal favourite is being–,”

Overwhelmed, Louis interrupts, whispering, “Isn’t there anything less drastic? Something that won’t lead to sex or doesn’t like…expose me so much?” 

“Well…there’s dry-humping.”

“ _What?”_ Louis chokes, because there’s so much to absorb and that sounds so… _odd._

“I am _not_ going to explain this because there aren’t words really, or words that won’t make it sound…weird or unpleasant. _But,_ we _are_ going to make sure you get some–Operation Orgasm. Wicked! You are _so_ going to thank me for this. Alright, here’s what _you’re_ gonna have to do…” and Niall proceeds to conduct (perhaps the Omega _should_ be titled Mastermind–sneaky little fiend) thorough preparations; all the while, Louis listens attentively.

And once the Irish lad is finished (having forced him to reiterate the plan more than five times) the Omega is flushed fire-hot _red,_ nervous and flighty. But, he’s going to follow through with this–he’s going to make Harry _want him._ And that’s that.

Soon, giggling foolishly, like two little school-lads, both stumble inside again–it’s eerily calm, the television sounds in the background–playing the weather forecast–and someone (probably Liam) is seated on the sofa, scuffling about. Idly, the Omega wonders whether Zayn’s beside him, but it’s so quiet, impossible to determine.

“Jesus, don’t make it _awkward,_ idiots!” his personal Irish guard scolds, then, “Where’s Harry?”

“Not here, obviously,” its Zayn’s expressionless voice– _aha_ , so he _is_ here; knowing this reassures Louis, but it’s fleeting, because while Louis _does not_ want another Omega comforting _his_ Alpha, the Omega _knows_ the Alpha shouldn’t be alone with his thoughts (through the months spent together Louis’s realised those thoughts, with the right words, or actions, oreven _look,_ are easily led astray, and find those dark places that the Alpha veils so well beneath his charm, his ability to suppress his emotions, his _arrogance_ ).  

“He’s upstairs, in his room,” Josh supplies from somewhere further away–the dining area? “Come ‘ere, Ni, there’s breakfast and you need to eat.” So _all_ Alpha’s are obsessed with eating habits then–figures. “You too, Louis–as Harry’s not here to say it ‘imself.”

 _No way–_ not when Harry’s upstairs, most likely _festering_ in guilt or something equally as unnecessary. Prepared to argue, Louis opens his mouth, but Liam cuts him short, “Lou, go eat. Give him some time.”

Grudgingly the Omega storms over to the table, plops down and picks at the dish before him–an omelet of some sort–until it’s partly finished.  Then, with one last sip of orange-juice, Louis rises and declares himself finished.  When Niall stands–probably to help him to Harry’s door–the Omega shakes his head, smiling appreciatively.

“Its okay, Ni, I’ll go,” when the Irish lad doesn’t instantly agree, Louis adds, “I know the way now.” Impatient, and unable to wait on an answer, the Omega starts towards the room, only pausing at the foot of the steps to call to the others, “We’ll be down soon!”

“Sure,” Zayn calls back in response, amused. Choosing to ignore him, Louis returns upstairs briskly, rapping twice on the correct door before sliding wordlessly inside. _Silence–_ it’s so jarringly silent that Louis _almost_ thinks the Alpha’s actually _left._ “Hazza,” Louis breathes in question.

“’ave you been _crying?_ ” the Alpha’s astonished voice carries from across the room. “Christ, Lou, I’m–,”

Interrupting him, the Omega closes the doors and approaches–somehow their fingers become tangled and then their breathing the same tense, yet gentle air. “Cuddle me,” Louis mumbles, smiling softly before tugging his Alpha towards the bed (which, according to his measurements, is only feet away–he’s correct) Carefully, Louis crawls onto the plush mattress, and with a defeated sigh, Harry follows, wrapping his arms protectively around the Omega’s waist so Louis’s plastered against his chest, his head resting on the downy pillows.

“Don’t apologise, Harry,” he says. “I’m okay. We’re okay. And…once you’ve cuddled me proper we’re going on an adventure, ‘member?”

“Yeah,” is the Alpha’s only hushed response. “Yeah.” And to Louis it’s the end of the conversation–but the beginning of what’s to come.

**∞∞∞**

                **O** nce those words leave his mouth, it’s silent again as Harry stares at Louis–it’s the first time the Omega’s doesn’t object to his gaze–whose gorgeous cerulean irises gaze blankly. And this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen–it’s supposed to be _slow,_ and gradual, or at least that’s what the Alpha assumed. Except it’s _not–_ it’s abrupt, without warning–and then he’s staring at this incredible boy _,_ who’s, one way or another, become his _entire world_ …And it’s _catastrophic_ –impossible to ignore, impossible to even _fathom_ the thought of doing such.

And the Alpha doesn’t know what to do–he’s so fucking… _lost_ in a sea of disgust and _resentment–_ the previous episode–the notion that he’s _hurt_ his lovely Omega–pains _him_ beyond all endurance. Because it’s _that_ simple to fuck-up, that simple for himto _ruin_ everything and Harry can’t recall there every being a time he’s been this _frightened_ of disappointing someone.

And then it’s like, it’s _just._ “Lou…I didn’t mean to…” _enough fucking excuses._ “Fucked up, didn’t I?” Between them, the silence becomes oppressive, but the Alpha doesn’t know what else there is to say–so instead, his arms tighten around the boy, latching onto the salvation his scent provides, quieting the thoughts that cause his temples to throb vengefully.

A while more passes before Louis sighs, squirms until the Alpha has no choice but to slacken his grip, expecting the Omega to rise, and then leave (because that’s what people do when Harry fucks up–it’s only the sad truth–it was true with his Mother, it was true with Gemma, it was true with his Father, it was true with those _‘mates’_ who claimed to have wanted more than his money or to-be title, and  it _still must_ be true) Except…the Omega turns onto his side, and in a soft voice, he asks, “Would I still be here if you had?”

Though the Alpha doesn’t understand, though, even now, it doesn’t make one bit of sense, the breath he’d been holding too-long shudders down his spine, his muscles relax, and his lungs don’t collapse. Without making the conscious decision, his hand rises to stroke light strands of hair from Louis’s eyes. “I’m selfish enough to hope so…”despite his best efforts Harry’s voice is still _raw._

And this time, its Louis comforting _him,_ littering small, kitten-kisses over his working jaw, the bridge of his nose, his chin, the corner of his mouth, “No more–don’t ruin this, _us,_ today. Let me have this–take me to the beach, and let’s smile a lot, and tan, and show those idiots that _we’re_ the cutest couple here. And then, when we’re worn out, let’s come back, so you can cuddle me some more.” 

“Always with the cuddles,” the Alpha grumbles lightly, salvaging his confidence, “One of these days I’m going to cuddle you till I can’t anymore.” Which, according to his Alpha, is _never–_ long as Louis desire’s cuddles, he will _happily_ give them.

“Ew, Styles!” Louis exclaims, fidgeting in attempts to flee– _not going to happen._ “That. Is. So. Unhygienic!”

“Could always cuddle you in the bath,” it’s said with ease that Harry doesn’t feel–not when his skin blazes (his body’s forewarning him of his imminent rut) and his canines threaten to sharpen, and his Alpha prowls underneath his skin– _this_ , being so close to his sweet-scented Omega, is going to affect his rut, that much is apparent, but it’s nothing Harry can’t control. “Or in the shower…Just say the word, kitten.”

In response–much to his satisfaction–the boy’s cheeks heat and that delicious rose colours them, but it’s his _words_ –his smart-mouth–that riles his Alpha–the challenge is _fucking sexy,_ “Wouldn’t be cuddling then, now would it.”

“No,” the Alpha breathes, gazing down, into depthless pools of _blue_ , “No, not at all, but it was worth a shot.”

“Wishful thinkin’, Styles, really. I’m much too classy to bathe with the likes of _you._ ” _Oh baby, I could teach you things–things that will have you screaming my name until your voice gives out._ And the heat spikes–quite literally as Harry’s positive his temperatures too many degrees above standard. That’s why, when Louis clambers out of the bed, Harry _lets him,_ watching as the boy leaves the room. Only there isn’t time to miss him, because Louis marches back inside, this time his luggage and that damned Wolf follow.

Raising an eyebrow, Harry smirks, but remains quiet until– “I’m moving in,” the boy declares, his hands tangled at his belly–his anxiety exudes.

“You’re makin’ a liar outta me, little one,” the Alpha tells him, watching as Louis’s canine’s inevitably find his bottom lip. But, he’s not lost his wit, “Nobody’s perfect–especially not _you_ Mr. I-Think-I’m-The-Prophet-Styles.” And, okay, that’s a bit farfetched, but… he’s still staring at the boy like he’s _everything–_ because in Harry’s world, he _is._  

“Going to have to disagree,” the Alpha argues, rising to stretch, “It’s my sole _purpose_ to steal innocent Omega’s souls with just one _smile_.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” says Niall, who– _point made–_ barges through the previously shut door, skipping over to Louis’s side and hanging on his Omega’s arm. “I’ve heard _that one_ before, Styles.  And I strongly advise you to reevaluate ‘cause you rather resemblance a frog.” There’s a fleeting moment of silence–through which Niall has the grace to look worried that he’s overstepped, when Louis pulls the other Omega into an embrace, shaking with laughter. “I knew it! I knew my magic worked!” the boy thrills, and the Irish lad gives him the _‘what’re-you-on?’_ look.

Attempting to seem offended, Harry runs his index finger over his lip, warding the grin threatening to curve them.  “Whatever happened to those soft-spoken, _kind_ Omegas?”

“You’re about two centuries to late, Styles,” it’s Josh, (does nobody _knock?)_ who assesses the scene with cool eyes before leaning against the opposite wall, watching thoughtfully as Louis high-fives Niall, praising the artificially blonde boy, who’s flushed with pride. “They’re quite adorable, those two.”

Nodding, the Alpha hums in agreement, before joining Josh and asking (as far as Josh knows, Harry’s clueless to his imminent _mating-ceremony)_ , “When’s the ceremony?”

Smug, the blonde Omega’s to-be-mate crosses his arms, “December–I gatta say, you Council pricks are very annoying. In-law’s or not, I would’ve mated my boy _ages_ ago. But with the Suitable-Age crap, too keep the Council’s _‘lawful reputation’,_ ” Josh quotes, curling his fingers derisively, “We had to wait.”

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the Alpha murmurs politely–really not sorry at all, he’s quite the advocate of _‘progressive love’._ Still, it doesn’t mean that applies to _everyone_. “If it makes you feel better I voted sixteen to be of lawful age. Alas, as I’m not _essentially_ Council constituent my vote hardly counts.”

“Nah, its cool,” the other Alpha says, still gazing at Niall–who’s (naturally) engaged in conversation with Louis, who listens attentively, nodding here and there whilst adding little comments. “I would wait forever, you know. And, despite the unreasonableflaws, I respect the Council enough to accept the terms. Of course it fucking _sucks,_ and honest to God, December cannot come fast enough; I’m so…Christ, I want to prove myself to him. And…well, it’d be wicked if you wanted to be one of the _holders.”_

 _“_ Mate, if there’s one thing I’ve learnt,” the Alpha murmurs quietly, “it’s if you treat ‘im proper, if you love him till death, if this is who you’re prepared to haveforthe _rest of your life,_ then the mating ceremony is nothing but validation. And, for what it’s worth, I’d be honored to make you bleed a bit.”

Before the other Alpha schools his features, he looks quite startled, and when he speaks, his voice is kinder than Harry’s heard before, “Thank you.”

“Wouldn’t thank me just yet,” Harry mutters, recalling the looks of pure _hatred_ on those Alpha’s faces whenever his place rose, when he took that fuckin’ dagger and–

“Come on, Louis!” an Irish whine pierces the track of his thoughts. “We haven’t got all day!” Just as Niall drags Louis out, Harry catches the foretelling click–another exit shut. Mystified, the Alpha pins Josh with a questioning look, to which the other Alpha mutters, “They’re up to something.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he agrees, then, “But what?”

“Something mischievous, I reckon. And I would investigate but I do believe that door is shut for a reason.”

“How do you stand it?” Harry blurts, shoving one hand through his unruly mane. “How? I don’t understand how you manage to balance the feelings? The cravings?”

“I don’t,” Josh replies easily, heading toward the exit, “If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, Styles, it’s to follow my instincts. First thing I said to Niall was _“mine,”_ and the little shit laughed, _“you keep wishin’.”_ But I didn’t let it go, my Alpha was so… _centered_ on this one–so, on the creeper status, I watched him the entire night until my Omega storms up to me, shouting, _“get off my fuckin’ back, you fuckin’…”_ And continued to talk and talk until I had such a headache and I’ve not been entirely sane since.” That makes two.

“Well, he _does_ talk some shit,” Harry murmurs dubiously. “I dunno _how_ you can keep up.”

“Another thing I learnt,” the Alpha grins toothily. “There are ways to shut him up.”

“Okay,” the Alpha groans, shaking his head. “I don’t need to hear anymore. I get it. You’re a fuckin’ creep, Niall won’t shut the fuck up, and I’m an idiot for even _asking._ ”

“Damn right,” the other’s voice is vaguely impressed before leaving the room.

Joining him, both groan in disgust, spotting the two _‘love-birds’_ making their nest on _his_ bloody sofa.  And they’re smiling at each other, without a care in the world, it’s like they’ve found the world _there,_ in that comfortable silence–the Alpha knows this because it happens to him so fucking often lately, because he’s found _his_ own world in hazy, blue eyes.

So, with one last glance, he lets them have their moment–even though neither would let him have his. Well, it’s simple to conclude he’s the best fucking mate in the world, of course.

**∞∞∞**

**“I** don’t see why we’re doing this,” Louis complains, resting his forehead against the nearest wall, helplessly trapped by Niall’s corrupt actions.

“You don’t see at all,” the Irish lad jokes flippantly and the Omega can’t help but smile because he’s so very grateful to Niall–who doesn’t treat him like he’s fragile and bound to break once his eyesight is mentioned.

“Ha. Ha,” Louis chides, “Very funny.”

“I know, I know,” Niall concurs–modesty is quite foreign to this Omega. “Really, I deserve a medal or summat. Like, honestly, why hasn’t anyone _awarded me?”_ then, “Here, put these on!” With that, swimming shorts are tossed at him–critically, Louis inspects the material with his hands. Finding nothing particularly worrisome, Louis undresses, and wiggles into them–the material clings to him bum and front uncomfortably, a second-skin almost. “Niiiialll,” the Omega whines, fidgeting in attempts to loosen the fabric, “They’re too small!”

“No, they’re _perfect,_ babe,” it’s an awed sigh. “You were blessed with this arse, Lou– _embrace_ it, Lord knows Harry will.” 

Louis flushes, then whispers, “Honest?”

“No, I’m lying,” Niall snaps. “Of course, you dolt! You’re going to have ‘em all salivating.” Immediately, Louis perks up, walking around to practise the sway his hips like Niall’s told him to, “Okay, okay, I can do this. Pep-talk, Ni!”

Without hesitance the Irish Omega grasps his shoulders in a firm grip, then murmurs, even, serious, willfully like always, “You can do this.”

“I can do this.”

“You are sexy.”

“Okay–that’s–,” Louis starts to protest, because he’s most certainly _not_ sexy, not with his stupid curves or his soft tummy–that is _not_ anyone’s idea of _sexy–_ perhaps cute.

“No,” it’s a warning. “You are _sexy._ Say it.”

“I…I am…sexy?” the Omega whispers to appease his best-mate.

“Again. And this time _believe_ it.”

Swallowing, chanting the words in his head, Louis croaks, “I’m…I am sexy.” _There, much more believable._

“Good. Last thing. You’re going to have that Alpha graveling at your feet.”

“I….I’m going to,” the Omega starts, mustering the courage to raise his voice to a reedy assertion. “I’m going to have my Alpha graveling for my arse on his knees.” The _‘I hope’_ remains unsaid. Inside, his Omega nods in approval, glowing with expectancy.

“’Atta boy! Here, put this on too,” and this time Louis doesn’t waver, pulling the tight, sleeveless shirt over his head and batting at his fringe–deep calming breaths follow. Once Niall’s changed, he asks, “Ready?” _Not at all._

“Sure,” Louis mumbles, and trails Niall downstairs. “We’re ready!” his best mate sing-songs sweetly–Niall’s voice has _always_ been lovely and it’s very fitting that the Omega enters the music-industry.

“About bloody time, you two are–,” his best-mates Alpha coughs, then growls, “Go change. Now.” Louis reckons Josh is speaking to Niall–it’d be quite weird otherwise–who has absolutely no shame in flaunting his looks.

“No,” Ireland doesn’t even miss a beat. “I’m happy with my outfit. And don’t you _dare_ use that voice with me again; otherwise that dick is going to be missing.” Times like these, Louis wishes his confidence was so high, though he takes much pride in being louder than the Irish lad–which says a lot. 

“Lou,” his Alpha speaks, voice hoarse and strangled–the Omega wonders whether that’s a good sign or not, and ridiculously his face flushes, realising he must be a damned sight. Curling his shoulders inward, Louis bites his lip, and peers in the direction of Harry’s voice, hoping it’s a pretty sight–he’s really trying to make it so. “Louis…what… _Lou,”_ now his voice is pained–now the Omega is tempted to dart upstairs and rip the bloody clothes away.

“Don’t back down, Lou,” the other Omega whispers conspiratorially. “He’s _loving_ it. Go, walk over to the sofa. Trust me.”

Purposefully, Louis obeys, one hand wisping over the walls until it reaches the smooth leather of the sofa. There the Omega joins Liam and Zayn–who’ve remained silent throughout the entire ordeal.

“Wow, Lou,” Zayn voices ever-so-quietly. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I…Shut up,” Louis hisses, voice too shrilly again.

“No, really,” the other Omega says anyway, placing one kind hand over his bare knee, “Looks good.” And…it’s so sweet coming from Zayn that Louis whispers, “Thanks, Z.”

“Well then,” Liam–so he _speaks!–_ interrupts, “Shall we?” And so the show goes on.

Again, Louis ends up in the passenger side…but this time it’s _different_ as his Alpha says absolutely nothing to him, doesn’t even _touch_ him, or hold his hand like _always,_ and his stupid Omega body is tense, needs the contact, _needs_ to know he’s pleasing him. And yet the Alpha seems to be more interested in discussing _cars_ with Josh, telling the other Alpha about his collection– _yes, there’s a collection!_

About an hour passes until, at last, they’ve parked. Louis releases a relieved breath, unable to stand being in the vehicle to any further extent–he really, _really_ hates cars, he decides before challenging the Alpha by opening his door and stepping outside without his assistance.

Outside the waves, not so far off, crash onto shore and the sun beams on his skin while Louis inhales the beautiful, salty beach smell that surrounds him. Being here feels serene, and Louis latches onto the distraction from his failure.

Humming, the Omega tilts his face in direction of the sunlight whilst Liam and Josh busy themselves with grabbing the bags and whatever else they’d brought. And that’s when Louis’s tugged from behind, his frame meets hard-broad lines, and instantly his Omega recognises this lanky frame, but Louis mostly recognises that _scent,_ which overcomes the beaches. This, the _touch,_ the sensation’s of being touched by his Alpha, relaxes his body like nothing else as Harry nuzzles his throat, muffling a groan into his skin, “You. Are. So. Bloody. _Maddening.”_

“Not…” the Omega takes a deep, shaky breath in recovery, “Not as maddening as _you._ ”

“No,” his Alpha opposes– _oh God,_ his _voice_ is sticky again, achingly _Alpha._ “No, _you are worse._ Because ‘m not flaunting my cock, kitten. ‘M not showing every Omega what they could have.” _This is for you,_ his Omega cries.

“So. What’s your point?” Louis retorts, breathless, completely shaken by the vulgar words, they’re _filthy_ coming from Harry’s mouth; and he wills his body to stop _squirming,_ though Harry does it for him, placing one possessive hand over the span of his belly, with a short, sharp, “ _Stay still._ ”

On command, Louis stills, because it’s Harry–the only Alpha his Omega wants to obey.

“The _point_ is,” the Alpha shifts, and his entire body jerks when…when Louis realises the Alpha’s _hard,_ so massively _hard_ against the small of Louis’s back. Gasping, the Omega can do nothing but _feel_ it as heat coils, and sends molten desire through his veins. “You’re flaunting that beautiful, beautiful arse. Giving every Alpha an eyeful of what belongs to _me,_ and you know what I think, kitten?”

“I-I do- _oh-_ n’t read minds,” his voice is so feeble, so Omega as Louis’s pulse begins to accelerate. He’s so lightheaded–probably from the lack of oxygen; it’s involuntary the Omega just can’t seem to _breathe_ consistently whenever the Alpha does these _things_ to his body.

“I didn’t say you _did,”_ his mouth ghosts over Louis’s throat, traveling, “But, I think–,”

“Alrighty, lads,” Liam’s voice sounds, footsteps approach and without finishing the Alpha releases him, retreating. Louis can’t seem to remember how to _move._ “Let’s go.”

Breathing again, the Omega manages to nod, and when the Alpha’s fingers brush his hand, Louis laces their fingers, and smiles shyly up at _his_ Harry. Well, even when the Alpha irritates him, and confuses him, there isn’t a time Louis doesn’t want to hold his hand or touch him. Stumbling through the sand, the Omega is relieved when Liam chooses a spot, not too far from the ocean-line. Gently taking his hand back, Louis timidly sheds his top, tossing the article onto the coverlet before lying on his belly, smiling up, where Harry should be as he’s not moved. “Sunscreen?”

Only mere seconds passes before the Alpha’s in action, fumbling with the zipper of one of their bags, then kneeling as Louis’s side. With his face in the coverlet, the Omega listens as the cap pops open, and then hands are massaging the cool cream into the nape of his neck, traveling over his shoulders, and his back before stopping at the waistline of Louis’s swimwear. Reacting to the divine sensation, the Omega’s skin begins to tingle, and he almost wiggles, because he’s achy down there, his thingy trapped in the material of his shorts–it’s an uncomfortable sensation.

Instead the Omega hums, “Feels nice.”

“Turn ‘round,” his Alpha murmurs in that voice of his. Already flushed, Louis does so, tossing an arm over his eyes, preparing for Harry’s touch. “You ‘ave such soft skin, Lou…So soft,” it’s spoken in that same, husky tenor. And the Omega bites his lip against the whimper on his tongue as cool, adroit fingers trail over his collarbone, his torso, his belly–his heart once again is frantic.

As those hands rub the substance into his skin, Louis remains quiet, but his Omega is purring. “All done,” Harry states, but his palm still rests over the span of Louis’s belly.

“Thanks,” Louis sighs, then, “My turn.” 

Willingly, the Alpha places the bottle in his shaky hands, and Louis swallows, fumbling with the cap. Once it’s open the Omega (accidently) applies more than the necessary dollop but Harry doesn’t comment, or many he doesn’t realise–either way Louis doesn’t say anything, placing once palm over the Alpha’s shoulder. At the contact, Harry hisses, but doesn’t move.

Careful, the Omega’s hands roam over the solid muscles of his torso, the heat of his skin, following Harry’s previous trail down to the Alpha stomach, marveling at the definite indentations of abs, spending more time than needed until Harry grunts, “That’s enough,” then shifts whilst Louis slowly retracts his hand and squeezes more sunscreen onto his palm to get at the Alpha’s back.  As his palms even out, the Omega mesmorises this body, broad-shoulders, slim waist, tall, tall, and _tall._

When it’s impossible to prolong the touch (it’s been five minutes or so already) Louis drops his hands, bowing his head and whispering, “Finished.”  

“Thank you, love,” the Alpha murmurs, placing one kiss to his nose before standing and stretching.

Soon, the Omega is lying on his belly again, with his face in his hands, in direction of the shore. There, the cool breeze ruffles his hair, and the sunlight seeps into his pores as Louis listens to Harry, Liam, and Zayn argue (typical) over the _‘correct’_ way to insert the umbrella (of all the things) into the sand. Wisely, both Louis and Josh remain quiet, but not Niall–apparently put out with their behaviour, his Irish best-mate storms over to them and shoves the umbrella into the sand; his hands clap together as he rids them of sand. “Christ. There! Problem solved. Now can we _please_ get into the water?!” _Leave it up to Niall,_ is Louis’s latest motto.

Mouth curved into a fond smile, the Omega wiggles his toes into the sand beneath the coverlet–he’s so, so content and the sun’s making him sleepy–he could very well cat-nap here.

“Oh, we can,” Josh snarls mischievously, then Niall screeches, and footsteps (Josh’s, he thinks) start towards the shoreline. “Lou! Lou! Help!”

With a wicked grin, Louis waves farewell in the Irish boy’s direction.

“YOU ARE SUCH A TRAI–!” the two must meet the waves because Niall yelps midsentence, and Josh cackles. Sometimes, Louis thinks, they really are _that_ cute.

Sighing, the Omega goes to rest when Harry rolls beside him on the coverlet, there’s that award-worthy-grin in his voice, “Ready, Lou?”

“Nope,” Louis says, wistful. “I don’t do the water. I’m quite happy right where I am, thanks. Now, shoo!”

“Loooouuuuiiisss,” it’s a whine that Louis chooses to ignore. But the Alpha doesn’t give up. “Louis! Lou. Loooouuuissss. Kitten! Little one? _Lou!”_ And he wishes Harry would stop using his name because it’s bad as the ocean’s current–every time it leaves the Alpha’s mouth Louis feels like he’s reeling him in, dragging him through waters the Omega doesn’t understand and into a net he can only thrash about in until he hurts himself.

“Harry, nobody’s stopping you! Go. I’m _trying_ to enjoy this.”

“No. I don’t wanna go without you,” and, yes, Harry Styles is _pouting._

“You’re such a child.”

Instinctively the Omega _knows_ when the Alpha starts to reach for him and, in his panic, acts quickly. Bounding upright, Louis backs up some feet, extending his hands. “No,” Louis murmurs evenly.

“Louis–,”

“No,” the Omega takes another unsteady step away. “No, Harry! Don’t you _dare.”_

“But–,”

“I can’t–! I can’t swim, okay!” Louis cries, afraid the Alpha might actually toss him into the current. “Please, Harry. Just, please, _don’t_.”

There’s one, brief instant of silence before, “I won’t let go, Lou.”

“I–,” now _he’s_ being interrupted.

“No, no, Lou, listen. I. Won’t. _Ever_. Let. Go–not in public, not in _private,_ not in the water, not even when I’m breathing my last bloody breath.”

Irrational, unwelcome tears gather in his eyes–he’s still _scared,_ but now emotion floods him. “Haz…”

“D’you trust me, Lou?” And it’s over.

“Of course I do,” Louis mumbles in defeat, because it was _over_ before it even started–he _can’t_ ever seem to deny Harry. And it arrives at an inhuman velocity, and then Louis is being carried towards the sea, his legs circling around Harry’s waist, arms thrown around his throat, clinging to his Alpha for dear-life–resembling a baby monkey, he’s sure. But the Alpha’s skin _blazes,_ and it’s such an _amazing_ sensation against his own skin, causing the Omega to forget what’s happening, basking in the heat, and the feeling and–

Abruptly, it’s _freezing,_ and Louis whimpers; they go under, only to arise seconds later. Now the Omega thinks he must resemble a drowned cat, because his hair’s _everywhere,_ sopping…but Louis grins, because everyone is hooting and being ridiculous, and it’s _nice._ As long as Harry’s his life-boat it’s nice.

On this day the waves are particularly harsh, but whenever the current pulls the Alpha remains rooted in place, supporting both their weight. Slowly, the water warms, or perhaps his temperature drops, who knows. “Not so bad, yeah?” Harry asks, lifting one hand to brush Louis’s hair back, spiking it upwards.

Teasing, Louis shakes his head, “Bad! More like _horrible!_ Salty! Dread–,”

Another wave crashes over them, and his words get lost in the sea as Louis makes a face, mouth considerably salty now. At his expression, the Alpha chuckles, then shakes his drenched curls.  Without thinking Louis retracts his hands to shield his face, giggling stupidly and shrieking, “Harry! Stooop! I hate you!”

“You _love_ me,” the Alpha growls lightly, and Louis’s breath catches in his throat. “Maybe a bit,” the Omega admits before he can stop the words from escaping his mouth because whenever Harry’s around it’s like his filter dissipates. “But, only for the cuddles,” Louis tries–it might work, then again, the Alpha might be taking pity on him. He can’t possibly tell.

“Knew it!” he murmurs, “You’re such a cuddle–,” but Louis doesn’t catch the rest because another vicious wave hurtles over, and the Omega tries to cling again, but under the force, he’s torn from Harry’s grasp. Underneath, his heart pounds, but it’s fleeting because hands are yanking him to the surface again, and Louis gasps, coughing and sputtering. And even though his Omega isn’t frightened, Louis’s body _is,_ and in panic-mode his fingers fist Harry’s curls, in need of the support–once that’s accomplished it takes only seconds for his body to catch up and relax.

Except the Alpha _doesn’t_ catch up, and certainly _doesn’t_ relax.

“Fuck,” his voice is rough with panic, and he rests his forehead on Louis’s shoulder. “Fuck, don’t _do that._ Jesus, don’t _ever fucking do that again,_ Louis.”

Louis coughs again, realising exactly how tense Harry is, breathing ragged, _panicked._ And his Omega controls his actions, because Louis doesn’t know how to react, and well…his Omega _does._

Working on instinct, his free hand brushes the curls from Harry’s face, petting him soothingly. “Haz. Hazza, I’m fine…See,” he places one, small kiss to the Alpha’s shoulder. “Look at me, Harry.  I’m really okay. Please, please look at me.” One tense beat past before the Alpha nods, but doesn’t move to look at him, voice still uneven as he speaks, “Yeah…Yeah, you’re okay. I’m… _fuck,_ I’ve not been so bloody afraid in my life.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Louis breathes, almost cooing, because that’s what his Omega _urges,_ “I wasn’t scared. You wouldn’t let me drown, baby.”

“No,” there’s not even a shard of silence. “No. No, Louis, I would never…”

“Shh,” he’s untangling his fingers, and curling them in the damp curls once more. “I know.”

“Lou!” Liam calls, to his right, but some feet or so away still, “Are you alright?”

“I’m _fine,_ Li,” the Omega snaps, not even turning to acknowledge his best-mate, focused on his Alpha, who exhales. “Harry’s got me. Right, baby?”

“Yes,” he nods–to say Louis is shocked at _this, vulnerable_ Harry is an understatement. “We…We’re going back to the beach. Okay?” And before the Omega even agrees, the Alpha’s returned to his commanding self, carrying him onto the beach again so Louis settles on the coverlet, cross-legged.

Humming low in this throat, Louis rolls onto his side, about to speak, but Harry’s next words astonish him into silence. “I’m sorry, Lou.”

“Why?” he’s nettled.

“Because, I…I should’ve…I should _never_ have let that happen. And–,”

“Stop,” Louis snaps, frustrated with how Harry _always_ seems to find the means to let the blame fall over his shoulders; Hell, the Omega would go so far as to claim the Alpha’s found some ridiculous way to blame _himself_ for Louis’s lack thereof vision, and that is not _okay_. “I’m _fine._ It wasn’t _your fault._ Stop doing that. Not everything is your fault, Harry.”

“No, Lou, I should’ve–,”

“No! No,” Louis starts, sitting up abruptly. “You listen to _me,_ Styles. Not everything is your fault. Did you _make_ that wave so harsh? Do you control the current? Do you?” he demands, and when Harry remains quiet, Louis sighs, crawling over to the corner the Alpha’s secluded to. “Haz,” he says, softly now, “Please, let it _go._ ”

With a harsh breath, Harry nods, and his arms come around Louis, tracing over his spine. “I meant it, Lou, I was fucking _scared._ And…and I lost it there for a second before I got you. Jesus, what if I hadn’t–?”

“Harry,” Louis refuses to tolerate anymore of this–it’s _done,_ there is _no such what-if_ or _could’ve happened._ “I am going to leave right this second if you start in…” and to make it clear that he’s serious the Omega begins to struggle as to get up, but those arms are steel-bands around him. 

“Stay. Please. I need to hold you,” his voice is unstable, crazed even. “Please, kitten, stay.”

Sighing, Louis relaxes, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder before muttering, “What am I going to do with you, Styles? You’re quite the handful, ya know.”

“I know,” the Alpha says without a trace of humour despite the fact that Louis was _clearly_ teasing, “But you’re going to let me hold you,” and there’s something _tragic,_ something Louis’s _missing,_ in that serious tone. “And smell you,” he noses at Louis’s temple, “And kiss you,” his lips dip and brush that _spot_ just beneath his jaw. _Oh,_ the word threatens to tumble past his lips in a whine, but Louis bites the inside of his cheek, and his lashes flutter shut.  “Yeah, ‘cause you’re such a good boy, _my_ good–,” and the words his Omega _craves_ are halted because someone’s approaching them.

“Bonjour,” a quiet, accented voice chirps, and Louis notes it’s another Omega. “I-I do na’–bonjour,” the Omega mumbles again–evidently unable to speak English. And…well, Louis doesn’t mean to glare at the other boy, but things happen, and that stupid, pretty accent is one of them.

“Hello,” his Alpha greets the French Omega politely, then switches to the language he reckons is French, and the fluency both impresses and shocks Louis. But, this hardly matters, not when there’s a part of him that’s suddenly _insanely jealous_ –but he’s more _disturbed_ by the depth of the feeling–he can’t recall ever feeling this way, not even when Niall found his Alpha before Louis, not even when Niall and Liam were home that Christmas Louis _couldn’t_ be…and certainly not when his…his _past_ treated that one boy, Stan, from across the street, better than he treated Louis, his _child._ And… it’s _wrong_ to feel this way about _this,_ of all things.

“Harry,” Louis mumbles, but the Alpha laughs at something the French boy says, Louis just. He sees _red_ , around the darkness, is red, which he's sure is all in his head but it hardly matters–he’s never been so _angry_ before, the rage simmers in his veins, all throughout his body. In this moment, Louis doesn’t exist to Harry, and perhaps he doesn’t _want_ to, despite his Omega’s protests.

Through their exchanged words he remains quiet; too disconnect to notice that his name occurs (in his feelings and thoughts), still glowering at where the French Omega stands. At last, the boy murmurs, “Au revoir,” before leaning forward to place a kiss to each of Louis’s cheeks–and then moves onto Harry’s.

Seething, the Omega waits until the French boy’s out of earshot to scramble out of Harry’s arms and stand.

“Lou, what’re you doin’?” it’s like the Alpha can sense the intensity of his fury, as his voice is oddly bemused, placating even.

“What does it look like? I’m going to sit by the water,” Louis replies curtly, then starts to stride purposefully towards the shore, where Niall must be splashing Zayn–because it’s Zayn’s girlish shrieks, and Niall’s cackling.

“Lou…”

“No,” he snaps, without stopping, willing the traitor tears from his eyes, and wiping furiously at his cheeks–just in case, “Go, chat up Frenchie some more. Since you two got on so bloody well.” Squaring his shoulders, the Omega storms over to the ocean, because he’s so very _pissed_ and alarmed at being this angry; it’s _too much._

And he’s prepared to let the sea swallow him whole when two long fingers grip his wrist. “Louis, that’s enough. You’re being irrational.”

“Irrational? How about I let another Alpha kiss _me,_ Harry? How about I ignore you to talk with him?” Louis demands, tugging on his arm–he doesn’t even notice the glacial sea-water washing over his ankles.

“Louis, that’s how they bid us goodbye here! It was only _courteous!_ And I certainly was not ignoring you. You’re all I spoke about!” the Alpha bites back, tightening his hold almost to the point of pain.

“Okay then,” the Omega’s voice carries calmly, something inside him just...it rises, “I’m going to take a stroll on the beach–and when some French Alpha’s approach me, because they _will,_ I’m going to be _courteous_ and let them kiss _me._ ”

With a fierce growl, the Alpha wrenches on Louis’s arm, so that the Omega loses his balance and winds up plastered against him, hands on Harry’s chest–his nails bite into the heated skin. “Let them try. I will tear their fucking throats out,” it’s so even, so _fatally_ Alpha–Louis’s Alpha.

“But you let _him_ kiss you,” somehow, even as a whisper, his voice _breaks_.

“Christ, Lou,” as Harry speaks, the Omega squeezes his eyelids shut defensively, because he feels _trapped_ (more than almost anything, he _hates_ that feeling) and he’s sure the other’s are aware of how absolutely _helpless_ he is in this moment. “It wasn’t even meant…it didn’t _mean_ anything.”

“That’s not the _point._ I…I don’t want another Omega touching you,” Louis breathes–the angers grown faint with insecurities, his self-esteem is battered. “You make me _crazy,_ okay? And I don’t want to commit to this if…I _won’t_ commit to this if I’m not the only one. Because you’re the only one for me–the only Alpha I want. So, tell me now, Harry. Tell me if I’m not enough, or tell me that I _am,_ and that I’m the only one that’s going to be touching you, the only Omega you will cuddle….Tell me _that_ –tell me I’m the _only one._ ”

“I…Christ, _y_ es,” the Alpha groans, curving his broad-boy to shield Louis’s, “You are more than enough, Louis. The only _one._ Just…I wanted to show you that I’m not _horrible_ as everyone makes me out to be–that’s the only reason I even bothered to make conversation. Even so, you’re all I could talk about. You. Are. All. I. Want!”

Sighing, the Omega gives in, and brings his arms around the Alpha’s shoulders easily, as Harry’s bent to accommodate his size. Without hesitating, arms circle his waist and lift him off his feet as Louis sprinkles _his_ kisses over the Alpha’s features, replacing that stupid, French boy’s kisses with his own until he’s satisfied, then, “No more kisses,” Louis murmurs firmly.

“Only your kisses,” the Alpha corrects, setting him back on his feet. And, well, somehow (Louis may or may not leap at him, so Harry loses his balance) the two end up sprawled on the sand as the Alpha takes Louis with him. Just like that they’re sopping again, but Louis’s beaming, “Let’s make snow-angels! I want snow-angels!”  

“Lou,” Harry sighs plaintively. “This is the _beach._ We can’t–,”

“Oh _yes_ we _can,_ Styles,” the Omega interrupts, linking both their hands and tugging so that the Alpha rights himself–they’re both dripping and the sand sticks to them, but Louis doesn’t mind as he lies on the powdery-soft sand, sighing low in his throat.

“Coming, or not?” he mumbles, grinning up at the sky as Harry’s answering groan, as the Alpha grumbles about the sand, but joins him, arms extended so their fingertips brush.

“Why do I let these things happen?” he asks, but Louis figures it’s rhetorical and doesn’t answer, going to his happy-place (which so happens to be cuddled in bed with Harry Styles) while doing that silly snow-angle spread and align. It’s very messy, there’s sand _everywhere,_ but soon enough the other’s examine their actions.

“What is _wrong_ with you two?” Niall squawks. 

“It was _his_ idea,” Harry snaps–obviously not having much fun at all. Oh well.

“Well than,” Niall murmurs, “This is absolutely _brilliant!”_ and then the Irish Omega plops beside Louis, laughing, “My God, Lou, you are _my kinda crazy!”_

“Shut up, Ni,” Louis mumbles, very determined to make this sand-angel.

“You lot are fuckin’ _weird,”_ Zayn decides, but nonetheless tugs Liam down (who frets because, _“what if we get lice!?”)_ with him until they’re all doing it and Louis thinks he’s started a new trend–the _sand-angel_ challenge.

First to grow restless is Niall, “This isn’t _working!_ The sand’s much to fine! Oh, I’ve an idea! Bury me! Bury me, guys, bury me!”

With an annoyed huff, Louis sits up, shaking the sand from his hair, and sighing, “I guess it wasn’t my best idea.”

“Nah, mate,” it’s Zayn’s voice, as the Omega sits up as well, “It’s like poetic–turning the ice cold snow angel into the–,”

“Okay, no,” his Alpha cuts in. “Bull-fucking-shit. Don’t even _go_ there. There is _nothing_ remotely poetic about having sand in places sand should not be.”

And this time Liam agrees–perhaps they _aren’t_ so very unlike after all–“I second that!”

Knowingly, Louis pouts, crossing his arms; seconds-too-soon, he’s stifling a smile because Harry speaks again, “Lou, don’t look like that! Just…Niall’s right, it’s the sand. We’ll try another beach.”

“I’m _always_ right,” the Irish lad chirps and Louis is positive it’s not only him who rolls his eyes.

“What! It’s only _true!_ Now, someone _bury me!_ ” With concurrent groans everyone huddles around Niall–because there is no point in denying the Irish boy–and begins to pile the fine sand over his sprawled-out frame.

Some way or another Niall ends up buried and completely ecstatic about it too. Louis doesn’t understand the appeal, but its Niall and there’s no making sense of his best-mate (over the years he’s tried and tried again, but to no avail).

Mischievously, Louis tosses sand in Liam’s face, and the unsuspecting Alpha sputters, wiping his face furiously and then…laughing. And the Omega laughs too because Liam’s _always_ been so uptight, but now his other best-mate is laughing like he’s not heard in awhile…And it makes the warm, fond feeling that much bubblier in his belly until Liam saunters off to attempt to wash the sand from his body.

“Alright,” Josh murmurs, “I’m beat. C’mon Sandy let’s get you out of there.” Yawning, the Alpha’s to-be-mate quietly accepts this, even allowing his Alpha to pour bouts of bottled-water over him (cleaning him to their best-ability).

Much the same is done to Louis, who doesn’t fuss, letting his Alpha cloak a towel around his shoulders. Smiling shyly the Omega clasps the towel close until each of them has little-to-no visible sand on their skin. Afterwards Louis helps Harry collect their things, not bothering with his–Niall’s–shirt. 

Once that’s finished, they return to the car, and it’s comfortably quiet–the Omega gather’s everyone’s fallen asleep; the only sound is Harry’s humming to whatever hipster music plays. And he’s content with the hushed humming, the Alpha’s hand twined with his. But, too soon the ride ends, though there isn’t much to miss as Louis’s tucked into Harry’s side, ignoring the others groans and grumbles.

It’s agreed to leave the bags in the garage (nobody cares to bring in any more sand than necessary) so they enter the well-insulated penthouse with Louis leading, guided by Harry’s careful hands on his hips, whilst the other’s trail them. Inside everyone goes their own ways, and Louis claims Harry’s too-spacious bathroom, applying the expensive washes to his skin and scrubbing any access sand away. Once he’s finished washing his hair (for the third time) Louis steps out, dries, and hastily changes into fresh clothes–pants, joggers, and one significantly larger shirt that he knows is Harry’s.

Refreshed, Louis drifts back into the room to find that the Alpha’s still not finished in the guest-shower, and decides he’s rather thirsty. In the kitchen, the Omega opens the fridge and lets his hands wander until they land on a bottle–hoping its water, Louis takes a swing, sighing when the rush of tasteless liquid fills his mouth. Through sips, Louis finishes the bottle, and that’s when the Alpha enters the kitchen, declaring, “I’ve gatta feed you. You’re not eating right, love.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis murmurs, “Not everyone can devour pounds of food, Harry.”

“This isn’t up for discussion. You hardly ate any of the breakfast this morning–and then you skipped the snacks at the beach so now I’m Chef Styles and I’m going to make, then feed you the best dinner of your life.”

Fondly, Louis mumbles, “Amaze me,” then hefts himself onto the countertop, swinging his legs while listening to Harry–who begins to clatter about the kitchen, preparing the mystery-dish. And already it smells lovely. Minutes in, some nameless tune sounds and with a groan the Alpha answers his phone, “Styles–oh, hey! Yeah, he’s right here, I’ll put you on speaker.” Louis frowns, vaguely shaken at the sudden shift in tone–from curt indifference to quiet gratitude. Turns out it’s his Mum–which _of course._

While his Alpha cooks, Louis chats with Jay, rambling on about his day (unable to help that his voice goes all dreamy–it’s been a lovely day), whilst his Mum adds comments here and there until Harry’s finished, and declares his masterpiece through. Grasping the let-go, Louis tells his Mum goodnight and sends the same to the girls (though they’re probably already in bed).  True to his word, the Alpha feeds him; it’s as delicious as it smells (some sort of pasta–Alfredo perhaps?) and the Omega thinks there isn’t anything Harry _can’t_ do.  And Louis manages to complete the dish–well Harry _helps,_ taking bites here and there.

“Wow,” the Alpha comments, seemingly awed. “I should cook more often. You actually ate it all.”

Louis flushes, hiding his eyes beneath his fringe and ducking his head. “I…Thanks, for, um, cooking for me.”

“Maybe next time you can help,” Harry murmurs, and instantly, Louis brightens, because he really _does_ want to learn (because what if, by some odd change, there’s no one around to do it for him? Plus the Omega really just _enjoys_ the way Harry praises him whenever he gets something right–those little _“good boy”_ ’s and _“perfect love”s_ that the Alpha gave him the first time they’d attempted pizza together, because he messed up that is).

“Yeah, next time,” he agrees enthusiastically, stifling a yawn behind his hand and hopping from the counter. “Take me to _our_ bedroom now, Styles.”

“Your wish is my command, little Omega,” and then he’s being scooped up again, and carried into _their_ room, where Harry places him onto his feet again. Before anything else, Louis brushes his teeth methodically, then drags himself into bed while the Alpha finishes up his own devices.

Tonight, Louis snuggles into the Harry-scented sheets, and tonight the Alpha joins him, until he’s snuggled in a massive amount of pillows _and_ Harry Styles. Both the plush mattress and the solid shelter of Harry begin to loll Louis towards unconsciousness when Harry murmurs, “Kitten, don’t fall asleep yet…”

“Why?” Louis mumbles, his eyes screwed shut–he can still feel the oceans tide somehow.

“I’m still curious,” the Alpha mutters, voice coarse and syrupy-slow with approaching sleep, “What actually went on in that dream?” Of course Harry wouldn’t forget–his memory might be too perfected.

“It wasn’t a dream.” Sleepy–he’s too sleepy to care that he probably isn’t making much sense and he’s exposing himself. “Wasn’t…Just, don’t be angry…”

“Why would I be–?”

But the Omega continues, “You…You said you ‘ave naughty thoughts…about me…I heard your conversation with Liam…I’m sorry, Hazza…’m a bad Omega.”

Just before an exhausted sleep claims him, Louis catches Harry’s whisper-soft response, “You’re never a bad Omega. You’re always the best Omega to me.”

And Louis _must_ be in love–because these feelings, these warm, soft, _fuzzy_ feelings glows within him…and it feels like it–like love.

∞∞∞

                “ **A** quarium!”  
“The Eiffel Tower!”  
“That is _so_ typical! Why not…?” this is what wakes Harry–directly outside _their_ bedroom door because why the Hell _not?_ And despite his intentions to find sleep again the Alpha meets conscious thoughts, realising, all at once, that his skin is in _flames,_ taunt over his straining muscles; his Alpha claws restlessly, roiling with _need_ –a need fueled by the Omega’s proximity, his _scent_ calls to something deep inside him. Even so, it’s not quite so horrible– _yet–_ in fact this is _easy_ to control, as he’s still _sane,_ and exceptionally aware of reality. And that must count as some sort of victory.

Swallowing, the Alpha makes the decision to halt the tainted oxygen flow, scrounging each process the Council bestowed upon him, chaining his Alpha–the physical reactions: the spiked temperature, the elongated canines, the straining, unavoidable  erection remain fixed. But his mentality, his _capability_ solidifies so that his body’s responses are durable again. Throughout the stabilizing progression one memory resurfaces–that one, particularly cold Alpha from the Council’s institution comes to mind. More importantly, his _words,_ “temptation will be every males downfall–avoid it, or suffer the consequences,” but the idiot hadn’t take Harry’s _‘condition’_ (the third day into his first rut) into consideration, the idiot didn’t have the mind to even consider the hand that was extended to him would be _his_ consequence to suffer. But, breaking the idiots nose, then his arm, had made Harry really _think_ into those words, perhaps a bit too late, but, shit happens. 

Unwilling to be diverted, Harry–gently as possible–leaves the bed, tucking the blankets around the– _his_ ethereal, sleeping Omega. Snatching an outfit–made for exercise–the Alpha goes into the adjoining bathroom, brushes his teeth and all that before clutching the counterpane for the support as he stares blankly at the reflection in the mirror–it looks like _him,_ because nothing’s changed…Except everything _has,_ hasn’t it? But that’s to be expected, because Louis Tomlinson has that chilling effect on him–with his sweet giggles, and airy laughs, and his wit, and _everything_ about the boy just… _does things to him._

Running one palm down his face, Harry runs the shower, and does his best to quiet his rampant thoughts–whenever they wander he feels that much more out of control, and right now that’s unacceptable. Once finished the Alpha wearily saunters outside their room to squint into the sunlit lounge. Nearby, in the kitchen, Niall cooks, and for once Josh isn’t his shadow, instead the Alpha is with Zayn and Liam on the sofa in the lounge, watching a film with English subtitles on the television.

“Noo! No! Jane, you twit! No–ah, too late,” Liam sighs mournfully, and beside him Zayn shakes his head at ‘Jane’ sadly. Then, seeming to sense his presence, Liam cranes his neck, and soft-chocolate irises find him with a cheery, “Morning!”

Glaring at the idiot without real conviction, Harry snaps, “Moron,” before stalking into the kitchen and swinging the recently stocked fridge open.

“How pleasant,” Zayn–the bastard–comments dryly.

“Couldn’t you let me sleep?” he asks crossly–no matter how much he craves to be holding his Omega in bed, unlike _some,_ the Alpha can’t seem to find sleep once he’s woken. Grabbing his ingredients–milk, apples, bananas–and setting them on the counter, the Alpha catches sight of Niall, who’s face splits into a wide grin. Taken aback, Harry blinks, about to ask when the Irish boy opens his noisy mouth, “Why, oh why would we do that? We wanted to make sure you two–particularly Louis–weren’t sore or anything. Didn’t make much noise.”

Inhaling through his nose, the Alpha wills himself not to cuff the Irish Omega. “What in the Bloody Hell are you on about?”

Niall raises one, questioning eyebrow. “Well it’s _obvious._ You and Louis were–,”

“Okay,” his voice is deadly quiet as he grabs the blender and practically ruins the fruits in his harsh, slightly brutal attempts to shove them inside. “That’s enough. I am going to pretend this never happened. Yes, I am going to make this shake, and then I am going running, and I am going to _forget_ this conversation ever happened.”

And the Irish boy looks _crushed,_ but before the Alpha has the chance to feel like an absolute twat, the look becomes impatient, and Niall turns without another word–which Harry figures is a plus. It’s impossible to keep his cool when his nerves are already shot-to-Hell–impossible to handle the mention of anything less than platonic concerning his relationship with Louis. So, he _doesn’t–_ downing the shake, shoving his wallet into his jogger’s pocket, and grabbing his phone the Alpha exits the penthouse without another word.

Practically any sort of exercise would do, but the Alpha’s always found more reprieve through running–yoga is exceptionally useful, but Hell if he spends one more second with _them._ Soon, when his breathing is ragged and he’s outran his Alpha, Harry’s entered the closest city. It’s busy, but fortunately nobody recognises him when he goes into a small, cozy café, nodding at the pastry options–there’s an exceptional amount of sweets and teas and all those things Louis fancies so much.

So, the Alpha orders too much of mostly anything that appears appetizing –because he’s never been fond of sweets and is clueless as to which muffin or doughnut or pastry tastes best–then leaves. It’s an hour or so more of aimless walking, then jogging while whistling a tune he’s been meaning to put on paper before Harry returns.

Inside it’s quiet, all the lads seemed to have gone about their own business as most doors are shut, but there’s no doubt in his mind that Louis’s awake– twenty minutes before he’d gotten back the Alpha could feel his confusion upon waking up alone, then his impatience, which pleased him to no ends; he quite likes the idea of being missed, even though it goes against everything that’s been drilled into his head. Tossing his phone, and placing the teas on the table Harry ascends the stairs with careful steps until he’s stopped at the door. As his senses are heightened the Alpha can smell Louis’s fragrance dancing happily in the air behind the door, luring him, and he can hear Louis rustling about. Of course he tries the handle first, but the Omega is _clever,_ and Harry should’ve known better than to think otherwise–it’s locked.

“Lou?” he asks quietly.

“Yes?” the boy sing-songs, and the Alpha smiles, leaning his heated forehead on the cool doorframe.

“Can I come in?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” now his voice is close, inches from the door separating them. “You left–therefore, it’s only _fair_ that I get the room to myself.”

“Your logic is very twisted,” he murmurs phlegmatically.

“Hm. Perhaps you’re right. But, I don’t really care,” despite his light tone, the Alpha can _feel_ how much funthe Omega’s having, teasing him. Well, damn–time to bring out the big guns.

“I brought treats…” the bait lingers only concise seconds before the lock unlatches and Louis peeks through the miniscule opening–something keeps Harry rooted in place, like he’s unable to enter until the Omega allows so. And now he’s a bloody vampire.

“What sort of treats?” the boy asks suspiciously.

“Muffins?”

“Not good enough.” Of course not.

“Éclairs?” And without permission his arms extends in offering; silently Harry waits until it’s the right time to strike. Except the Alpha’s attention shifts elsewhere, staring as Louis’s canines worry his plush bottom lip–then the bags snatched from his hands and the door is shut and locked again.

“Hey!” he protests, frowning. “That’s foul-play Tomlinson!”

“There’s no such thing!” the boy calls happily. _New game plan,_ he thinks, altering his attack-point.

“Hm. You’re right. When you’re finished, you can come and find me downstairs.” As the Alpha turns to play like he’s _actually_ (yeah right) leaving, the door bursts open (ding, ding, ding, we have a winner, he thinks, satisfied) and then he’s being tackled from behind. Surprised, Harry stumbles a bit, but quickly catches his balance, absorbing the little extra weight as the short legs circle him and slim arms loop around his neck, “You’re not supposed to _leave!”_

“Then what,” he starts, grinning in spite of himself, “pray tell, am I _supposed to do?_ ”

“You’re supposed to _make_ me open the door.”

Tensing, the Alpha mutters, “How? Using the voice?” there isn’t anyone who wouldn’t know what he’s referring too, not even Louis, innocent as can be.

Tightening his hold, Louis sighs, like it’s so very _obvious,_ “Now where did you get that absurd idea? Of course _not,_ prat! Make me, as in charm me out of that bed.”

As the tension leaves his shoulders the Alpha turns, carrying the boy into the room and kicking the door closed behind him. “Ain’t it backwards?” he asks, amused. “Aren’t I supposed to charm you _into_ bed?”

Louis snorts prettily, then, “As if!”

“Oh, really?” Harry starts, stopping before the bed before gripping the Omega’s wrist and tugging so that Louis goes sprawling onto the mattress; shock crosses his face and the Alpha chokes on his laughter. So very adorable. Crawling beside him, propping his face with one hand and toying with the boy’s small, graceful fingers in the other, Harry drawls, “I do believe this counts as charming you into bed with me, kitten.”

“You know it really isn’t fair,” the Omega mumbles, trying to sound nonchalant, but even so it’s not very effective–his endless conflicting emotions crash over him.  And this makes the Alpha wish, once again, the bond would disappear–the cheat-cheat is one of those _unfair_ aspects between them. 

“What’s not fair?”

“How you disarm people. Women. Men. _Me._ ”

Curious, surprised even, the Alpha cocks his head to the side, watching the boy’s features. “Do I disarm you?” 

Like always, because Harry’s figured out it’s a defense mechanism, the boy closes his eyes, then shrugs, “All the time.”  But the Alpha knows better–it’s not _him_ that disarms people. If only.

“’s just the looks, Lou, or the voice,” his voice is matter-of-fact.

“No, Harry, it’s much more than that,” the Omega breathes–like he could possibly _know,_ “Firstly, I don’t _see_ you, not with my eyes at least, and second, nobody’s voice does… _this_ to me.” Does what, he nearly asks, but decides this conversation isn’t going anywhere.

“You disarm me, Lou,” it’s so fucking undeniably _true,_ “Your innocence. It cuts through all the crap.”

“And if I wasn’t so innocent?”

“Then surely I’d be dead of a stroke by now.” _Surely._

Louis scowls, then sighs, and smiles shyly. “You’re so annoying. Get out. ‘m tired of you.”

“Are you kicking me out?” he gasps, seemingly scandalised, clutching his chest.

“Nah,” the Omega decides, seconds-to-late– _well than,_ “You’re too useful. I mean who else is going to give me cuddles and bring me treats and charm me into bed?”

“Nobody,” the Alpha answers seriously. “Because you’re mine.” As the words settle between them, Louis tilts his head to the side, as if to regard him, and then climbs into his lap. One fluttering hand flattens on his stomach over his shirt–Harry tenses, but the Omega either doesn’t care or ignores it because the other dainty hand lands on the side of his throat and Louis smiles timidly, before whispering, “Kiss me?”

“Demanding little thing,” he replies huskily, knowing he _shouldn’t_ but unable to resist, holding his breath as he leans down to join their lips briefly–reveling in the soft, pliant lips against his own before retreating again. With an unsteady inhale the Alpha licks his lips, starving to catch the sweet taste his mouth couldn’t receive through that small, innocent kiss.

Louis squirming in his lap slams him into reality again, as the heat coils low in his abdomen, his cock thickens impossibly– _fuck,_ it’s a surprise his knot hasn’t started to form.  But the Omega must feel him because his movements cease immediately, colour spreading over his cheeks.

Pulling oxygen through his teeth, the Alpha manages to keep his hips still, watching Louis through hooded eyes.

“I-I have more questions,” the boy says softly, biting his lip hesitantly–in attempts to hide the way his hips flex–like he’s really going to get up in the boy’s perky arse very soon–Harry straightens, realising all at once that movement caused the boy’s hand to slip lower, just above the waistband of his joggers. Honestly, the world is so cruel sometimes–like now. “Go on,” his voice is even enough as one hand runs through his curls.

“What…” Louis swallows, the finishes, “What d-does being heir to the Council entitle exactly?” _Annnnd there goes his hard-on._

“Power,” the Alpha answers flatly.

“No, I mean…like, um _discipline-wise._ D-Do they like…Do they _torture_ their Alphas?”

Surprised, Harry blinks, then asks, “Where did this come from?” Probably Niall–Hell, he’s willing to wager more than a thousand pounds on it.

Shrugging the Omega mumbles, “I…Just heard that, you know, the Council does those things.” Definitely Niall.

Narrowing his eyes, the Alpha murmurs tightly, “I wouldn’t say _torture–_ more like a training of sorts. We got through tutors in most mandatory subjects, but mainly politics and maths. It’s simple to achieve A-Levels, and the go onto Uni courses through High School. I’ve gotten an entrepreneurs degree, ‘m workin’ on Law presently. And, as you already know, there are luxuries to it; flying lessons, and the likes.”

“You’re going into _law?”_ the boy sputters, then shakes his head, “Nevermind, that’s for another time. I want to know about the…not-so-luxurious aspects. I know there’s got to be some.”

“I guess so,” the Alpha considers telling the whole truth, but doesn’t think he can. “Some things are more…difficult to achieve than others. Psychic levels, mental discipline, the likes, they were never my strongest points. There are…methods to which we go through to…smooth things out.”

“Methods?” Louis breathes–emotions coloured with (unnecessary) dread.

“Yeah…They…They’re precautionary really. Go through ruts with elements that would normally create tensions. Learn to conquer and conceal basic-Alpha-nature…”

“What elements?”

“I dunno, Lou,” his voice isn’t so even anymore. “Like an Omega’s scent.” Or a helpless Omega in the same _room_ with an unstable, sex-crazed Alpha,thrown to the sharks like a piece of meat.

“I am…confused,” the Omega admits, the little _v_ between his brows forming. Without permission the Alpha’s fingers smooth over the little furrow, smiling gently. “’s nothing you should worry about, love. I promise, nobody was, or _is,_ tortured. I certainly _wasn’t_.”

“Somehow I’m not convinced. “

And his smile falters, muscles bunching as the space Harry’s kept sacred is threatened. Opening up, lowering the guards over his personal-space isn’t working, it’s _difficult_ and part of him wants to shut the Omega out–because he’s so innocent, and there’s absolutely no _reason_ for Louis to be fretting over the Council (those are a lot of fuckers Louis won’t ever have to deal with). “You’re not making this easy on me, are you, kitten?” he asks, not really wanting an answer.

“Why’re you so…so _cynical?_ I’m trying to make sense of it…I-I’m not trying to be difficult. Just…you run hot and cold, Hazza. Sometimes you’re so…so _brilliant,_ well, you’re always brilliant, but there are so many partsto you. There’s _my_ Harry, and then there’s the Council’s Harry, and who knows how many else.”

“There’s only _me,_ Louis,” his voice is sharp, defensive even.

A small, sad smile graces the Omega’s lip–it makes him feel _worse._ “No, there’s not…but I rather fancy _every_ Harry–I fancy playful Harry, and possessive Harry, and angry Harry, and–,”

“This is quite the hefty list of Harry’s,” somehow the boy manages to amuse him even now.

“You’re a hefty Alpha.”

“Are you calling me _fat?_ ” he gasps, mock-outraged. “That’s just mean.”

Now the boy giggles, batting at him, and the Alpha knows he’s avoided destruction as playful growls escape his mouth. “Think this is funny, do you?”

“Oh, shut up,” Louis sighs, smiling still. “I know you’re doing that thing again.”

“That thing?”

“ _Distracting_ me.” And his boy really _is_ intuitive but.

“I _live_ to distract you, kitten,” Harry murmurs, pulling him close to brush his chin along the Omega’s silken hair, savoring the feel before moving to noses at Louis’s cheek. Between them the Alpha can hear the boy’s heart revving, crashing in his chest and _fuck,_ he wants him. It’s wrong, inappropriate even; as his Omega is so very unsuspecting, so _giving,_ but…he still wants him–more than anything.

“D’you?” his voice is breathy again and, deep inside his Alpha growls, pleased.

“Mhm,” Harry hums, “You’re very easy to distract.” 

“J-Jokes on you,” Louis breathes, wriggling in his lap again, and like most times the Alpha places his hands over the Omega’s soft hips. “I…I let you distract me.”

Grinning, Harry tightens his grip, “You’re distracted–right now, aren’t you, little one? Don’t even remember what we were talking about I reckon.” And his other hand travels over to the small of the boy’s back–without permission his tongue drags down the boy’s throat, tasting him there instead of his mouth.

“I…” the boy pants, tilting his head as too give the Alpha more access.

“You…?” he prompts, his mouth hovers over the sensitive skin underneath his jaw, breathing there so that he’s rewarded with Louis’s shiver.

“I…am… _not_ distracted.” Just like that the Omega’s hands grip his shoulder and shoves him so that Harry’s back meets the mattress, slightly impressed by Louis’s resistance. _Such a surprise._ “You don’t fight fair,” Louis continues airily, “That’s foul-play.”   

“There’s no such thing,” the Alpha reminds him, and the boy raises an artful brow, scrambling to his feet beside the bed-frame.

“Perhaps not in _your_ world, but in the normal realm you fought _dirty,_ Styles.”

“Normal realm?” Harry scoffs, folding his hands behind his head. “It’s no _wonder_ it’s so easy to distract you, as you live in such a dreadfully _boring–_ ,”

“Now you’re being ridic–,”

“Shh,” it’s intentionally obnoxious as the Alpha swells with satisfaction when Louis’s irritation spikes–there’s something incredibly _sexy_ about an angry, pouty Louis. “The master is speaking. Honestly, didn’t anyone ever teach you _normals_ any mann–?”

Kitten has claws, Harry thinks, best not to forget that–especially not when Louis scrambles onto the mattress, raising his hand as if too slap the Alpha. But he’s much quicker than the boy and jerks to the side, catching that hand before it connects with his cheek. Since Harry has the boy’s wrist the Alpha decides to use it to his advantage and hauls the small boy against his chest. “Don’t hit, kitten. It’s not very nice.”

“ _You’re_ not nice.” And he tries to pull away, but he’s not going anywhere, of that Harry’s sure. “And you’re certainly not _cute._ ”

“So many things I’m _not,”_ Harry says with an up-to-the-minute spark. “Not nice, not cute, not _normal._ What about the things I _am?_ ”

“You _are_ arrogant. You _are_ irritating. You _are–,_ ”

“Superlative,” the Alpha murmurs, smirking. “I know, kitten, there’s no need to remind me. Jeez, you’re an unhealthy dose of ego-steroids.”

Blowing an annoying breath, the Omega mumbles, in a small, fond voice, “You’re right–but there’s somethin’ else you are…”

“Yours?” the Alpha tries, knowing there’s a slim, _slim_ chance that’s what’s coming–he’s right, of course.

“No,” Louis dead-pans. “An arse.”

Well, some things never change–which the Alpha is perfectly content with.

**∞∞∞**

                **I** t’s intentional, of course. Louis isn’t prone to forgetting–not where Harry’s concerned. And the Alpha is very much substantive to the Operation. So, shuffling into the bathroom following breakfast, Louis _“accidently”_ forgets his clothes. Once he’s closed the bathroom door behind him Louis realises there’s no going back, and hugs the towel to his chest, focused on breathing evenly until his heart’s calmed enough to unclothe and enter the steam-encased shower.

During the Omega may or may not spend an unnecessary amount of time scrubbing through his hair and skin, running the endless hot water until he’s sure his skin is an appealing pink. Outside, Louis dries slowly, before wrapping the towel underneath his arms (because he’s not bold enough to reveal his tummy, which feels bloated with nervous butterflies).

It’s now or never–Louis chooses now. Opening the barrier the Omega pads into their bedroom–though the Alpha is silent, the current swamps the Omega, who shivers as Harry’s smoldering gaze pins him motionless. “I…I forgot my clothes,” he whispers, proud that it’s believable, even as his hands shake where they clutch the towel to his chest. “I’m going to change now, a-and…um…”

And with lightening speed, without even any sound, the Alpha’s abruptly _close,_ towering over Louis; that blistering heat surrounds the boy who vaguely questions how Harry’s not running a fever, he’s so _hot._

Large, possessive hands grasp his hips, holding Louis trapped as the Alpha whispers words with the fervor rolling off him, “Don’t make me go.”

“I…” he starts, shocked, and breathy as those fingers tighten over his towel-covered skin.

“Lemme stay,” his voice is frantic, but with that thick, molasses-like accent, and Louis’s every Omega’s gene wants to give in, to let the Alpha’s intense gaze light his skin from the inside out, but…this wasn’t supposed to happen–the Alpha was _supposed_ to leave, or kiss him, or _something else._

“No,” Louis says shakily, even as his Omega begs the Alpha to _stay._ “I…I want to change now. And you need to leave.”

“You’re…You’re making _me_ leave?” he sounds extremely _shocked–_ which isn’t shocking to Louis, knowing Harry’s used to getting his way.

“I am,” the boy agrees, shying away from those hands and that gaze and this _Alpha._ “Get out.”

With an incredulous laugh the Alpha extends the distance with many backwards steps. And even as Louis turns, he’s aware of Harry’s gaze raking over him. Doing his best to ignore it, Louis ambles over to the suitcase, bends, and focuses his blind glare over his shoulder. “Styles…”

“Going, going,” the Alpha murmurs lightly as the door begins to close, “Gone.” And then the barriers back again and the atmosphere cools enough that Louis closes his eyes and released one shuddery breath. Removing his lotions and his pretty-scented sprays, and deodorant (the Secret kind because it smells much lovelier than those one’s of Liam’s, at least to him it does), Louis fancies so much, the boy slowly, carefully applies each. When the Omega smells pretty, Louis dresses–in a simple shirt, khakis (he hopes) shorts, and his black Toms (it’s the only colour he’s taken, as it matches with _anything_ ).

While he’s slipping his foot into his right shoe someone enters and Louis stiffens, then huffs, “Hazza, I am going to _ki–,_ ”

“Whoa there,” it’s Niall’s voice. “There’s no need to be hostile. ‘S only me.”

“Could warn an Omega,” Louis chides, relaxing when the Irish boy orders, “Stand up.”

Confused the Omega does so, fidgeting under his best-mates scrutiny. “Normally I’d say _no,_ but as we’re going out–just you, Zayn, and me, it’ll do.”

Louis blinks. “Who decided _this?_ ”

“Me, of course,” the Irish lad says cheerily.

“And the other’s _agreed?_ ” Louis asks, grinning because he’s rather excited to be free of an Alpha’s constant presences, excited to be _loud,_ and stupid, and with his best-mate.

“Of course _not,_ ” Niall replies, “And anyway, what do _they_ matter? ‘M sure we can convince them. ‘Cause they’d like to think they rule the relationship, but honestly, we know better.”

“Of course, of course,” Louis agrees gravely, then, “But how am _I_ supposed to convince H when I’m not even able to pull this whole seduction thing off?”

“I beg to differ,” Niall snickers gleefully. “Y’know, Lou, sometimes you _are_ quite naïve. Especially when it comes to this sorta stuff…I think you’re lacking the proper motivation though. Hmm. _Oh._ You know what, maybe you’re right, you _can’t_ do it.”

Hearing this, the Omega’s cheeks bloom with colour. “I can to do it.”

“Nah,” the Irish lad persists, a trace of pity to his lilt. “No. Look at you. You’re a flushed mess. You’ll never be able to pull it off.”

Crimson anger comes over the Omega, and with a glare, Louis starts towards the exit. “Watch me,” he hisses, flinging the door open and marching outside, not even hearing Niall’s laughter, he’s so angry. He _can_ do it, he’s not…he’s not completely _incapable_ of being somewhat desirable! _Right_?

Downstairs it’s not difficult to find the Alpha, as Harry says, “Lou?” from the general direction of the sofa. Crossing over to him the Omega puts his hands on his hips and murmurs, “I’m going out today.”

“Okay…?” the Alpha sounds confused. As to clarify, the Omega adds, “Without you. Only with Z and Niall.”

“No,” there it is, the response Louis expected. “You’re not.”

“And why the hell not?” he demands, still seething.

“No.” So the snarky attitude isn’t working, well that’s probably best because Louis _hates_ being snarky without reason–it’s always left him feeling guilty afterwards. Besides, the boy likes to think his pleading-strategy works.

“Why not?” his voice softens, coloured with disappointment.

“Because it’s not…No, Louis, it’s not safe enough.”

“But,” the Omega begins, eyes round as his hands tangle at his belly and his head bows a bit. “Please?”

“No,” the Alpha repeats, and Louis carefully crawls into his lap, curling up there, and lifting his hands to trace his fingertips over Harry’s cheekbone. “Please,” Louis whispers, “Don’t be this way. Don’t suffocate me…Please.”

And the Alpha inhales sharply, “I’m suffocating you?”

“Please, Harry,” Louis breathes again, brushing one stray curl from the Alpha’s eye. “”s only a few hours. And then we’ll be back. Please, don’t say no.”

“Christ,” the Alpha curses. “Why? Why do you do this to me?”

“Do what?” Louis asks, puzzled.

“Look at me _that_ way, and _plead with me,_ and ask for the most impossible things?” Without realising it the Alpha’s confirmed his hopes–this is working.

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip the Omega drops his gaze, about to respond when the Alpha groans, “I’m an idiot, such a fucking idiot, but _fine–_ three hours. Then I want you back where I can see you.”

Louis swallows, and mumbles (because he _can_ ), “Five hours.”

“Four,” _wow,_ there’s a benefit to _everything_. “That’s the longest I’m going.”

“Okay,” Louis says, grinning sunnily up at his Alpha. “Thank you, Hazza.” Without warning the Alpha’s mouth claims his, one hand evens over his lower back so that Louis’s arching into the kiss, responding eagerly. It’s dark, and sensual, and alarming all at the same time but Louis kisses him with equal fervor–hands twisting and fisting the Alpha’s curls on their own accord. And then they’re tongues are entwined and sparks erupts between them–the Omega whimpers into Harry’s mouth–which tastes hot, and sexy, and once again, down there aches, and Louis feels _needier_ than ever before. When that scent swamps him, dark spices and body wash and a tinge of Louis’s sprays, the Omega instinctively shifts, spreading his legs so that his bum will rest directly where he _needs_ it to; his body melts, knowing what going to press into his bum. _Yesyesyesyes,_ that’s what Louis needs _._ Abruptly the Alpha drags his mouth away from the Omega’s before Harry stares down at him–seemingly gripped by something Louis probably doesn’t have to capacity to even understand.

“You make me do stupid shit, Louis Tomlinson,” his voice is rough, vibrating between them. “You make _everyone_ to stupid shit. D’you realise it’s impossible to deny you?”

“N-No,” the Omega pants absently–the delicious heat of his Alpha continues to spiral through him. “s not true.”

Against his throat, the Alpha growls in warning, “Yes, yes it _is._ And you’re too naïve t notice that I can’t seem to even _look_ at you the wrong way…because you make me feel stupid ways…And I’m so bloody _stupid_ where you’re concerned.”

And the Omega’s body’s so loose now, pliant as his forehead rests on the Alpha’s broad shoulder–he’s struggling to breathe evenly. “’magine that,” his voice is too high. “Harry Styles finally coming clean ‘bout his…phenomenally low intellectual-levels.”

At this the Alpha chuckles, “Confidential information, ‘tis.”

Uncurling his fingers from the Alpha’s hair, Louis forces himself to sit up again, smiling softly, “Really, Hazza, thank you.”

“Would you have listened anyway? Would you have stayed, if I didn’t agree?” he asks warily.

Louis blushes, and bites his lip, shaking his head silently (because he’d have found a way to get out).

“Didn’t think so,” Harry whispers smugly. “We’d have gotten into an argument. And I don’t want that. Not here, not now. So ‘m giving you four hours away from me,” long, deft fingers trace the curve of his spine, slipping underneath his shirt. And Louis doesn’t even recall _why_ he’d ever want time away–not with the Alpha’s hot, hot skin branding his own. “And if you’re even a minute late I am going to retrieve you, bring you back, and teach you what it means to obey, yeah?”

“Yessir,” he jokes weakly, but Harry tenses beneath him–again, the Omega’s sure the words weren’t the right ones as whenever Louis says something particularly daft the Alpha always goes tense, and they’re back to the beginning, where the Omega has to practically _force_ him to calm a bit. Distracting him works as well. “Why’re you so disinclined to let me go?”

“Aside from the fact that you’re going with _those two,”_ the Alpha mutters. “There’s bound to be some Alphas and you–,”

“And ‘m yours,” Louis breathes sincerely. “Besides, if you haven’t noticed, not many Alphas approach me–they’re not looking for–,”

“Don’t,” Harry orders sharply. “Don’t say it. Because it’s not true. Everywhere we go there’s another fucking Alpha staring at you. And it’s one more Alpha’s throat I _literally imagine_ having my handsaround.”

Another shiver runs up Louis’s spine. “It’s not like they’re…you know…like they _want me._ They’re only sizing up a p-potential mate because it’s been scientifically proven the stronger–,” he begins to ramble until Harry sighs.

“Lou,” the Alpha says, and the boy’s words cease promptly. “They want you. All of ‘em–the fuckers.”

“Do you?” Louis blurts, voice an unsteady whisper as he hastily explains, in case Harry (somehow) doesn’t understand (or because he’s so nervous any instant of silence might kill him). “Want me, I mean…Am I…Am I who you desire?”

“You’re really asking me this?” the Alpha asks in disbelief.

Frowning, Louis can’t decide whether to be hurt or offended or relieved. “What’s so shocking–?” But he’s hushed by the Alpha’s lips, brushing the corner of his mouth before those lips curve into a grin. “You’re all I want,” this time Harry’s voice isn’t the least bit teasing– he’s serious and Louis’s breath catches. “I wanted you that first day in the hall. I wanted you when you threw _flour_ in my face. I wanted you when you _bit_ me, and I want you now. You’re all I want, and desire, and covet, and all I will _always_ want and desire and covet.” _Oh._

Louis’s eyes slide shut. “You…You’ve never let on.”

“I have,” Harry disagrees. “I told you, Louis, you’re all I think about. And now you know some of those thoughts aren't exactly appropriate.”

“You never _did_ get around to explaining what…what…? You know,” Louis mumbles shyly.

Laughing, the Alpha shakes his head, and then shifts so that Louis’s seated on the sofa, but pressed against his side. “You can guess, love.”

“You know I _can’t,”_ he grumbles. “Unlike _some,_ I can’t very well–,”

“You are _so_ fuckin’ impossible,” it’s an Irish shriek as Ireland himself storms downstairs–Josh on his heels.

“Ni…”

“SHUT UP! I don’t want to hear you. I want to throw the fuckin’ sofa at you!” Well then.

Amused, Louis conceals his smile in Harry’s arm. “The sofa?” his Alpha questions, “Under different circumstances I’d tell you go for it, but as Louis’s sitting here…’m advising you _not to._ Plus, it’ll probably ruin the paint on the walls, to which some poor fellow worked so hard to perfect.”

“Styles,” Niall hisses, rushing past them, “Shut yer fuckin’ mouth.”

“Harsh,” Louis comments, noticing how Harry’s gone silent. “But effective.”

In the distance another door slams shut and then Josh growls, “Niall! You’re being unreasonable!” And then the Omega’s to-be-mate is gone, following Niall.

Snickering, Louis says, “And he said _I_ couldn’t do it.”

“Do what exactly?”

“Um…” the Omega fumbles, realising he’s slipped up. “Well…wha-what happened was…Niall kinda said _Icouldn’tconviceyoutoletmego._ ”

“Come again,” there’s a trace of amusement in his voice and Louis hopes he’s not imagining it.

“Niall said,” his cheeks are pink again, he’s sure, “I-I couldn’t convince you to let me go without you.”

There’s one brief moment of silence (to which Louis is flooded with guilt) when Harry speaks at last, “Well. You certainly proved him wrong.”

∞∞∞

                                **L** ouis’s not even _left_ the bloody penthouse when the buzz, once again, becomes a deadweight over Harry’s shoulders. Without permission the Alpha lowers his face into the boy’s wispy hair, breathing in that scent to earn a bit of reprieve–except seconds behind is his Alphas backlash as his body identifies the Omega’s sweet, floral scent. _Fuck._ One cruel wave of heat crashes into, then _over,_ him. Unknowing, the Omega shuffles into his lap again, so fucking unaware that his pheromones are _wrecking_ through Harry’s insides, urging him on. And the Alpha doesn’t know whether to be grateful his cock isn’t nestled by the boy’s luscious arse, or disappointed because that arse is so achingly close, _inches_ apart. “You’re like _furnace_ right now, Hazza,” the boy says quietly. “I think you’re running a fever.”

And then Louis _touches_ him, fingertips light over his forehead, brushing the curls from his face, and Harry nearly groans, swallowing the sound to croak, “Nah. ‘S hot in ‘ere.”

The little _v_ appears between Louis’s brows. “You think so?”

“Mhm,” is the only sound Harry can make that won’t become a growl.

Just as the Omega opens his mouth to reply, Niall returns, and trailing him is Josh who looks proper _pissed._ Somehow, the two end up in the kitchen, and the Irish Omega goes through the drawers. For the moment Harry is distracted from his body’s needs, and able to think again, because he thinks Niall is searching for a knife.

Josh–causal as ever–leans against the fridge, watching guardedly, like this has happened before. Don’t want bloodied walls, Harry thinks idly, before sighing, “Actually, you’re probably right. Go upstairs while I grab a bottle of water.” _Believable enough._

Looking ridiculously worried, Louis nods, “Okay,” and then Harry watches the Omega go; of course he tries _not_ to stare at his arse, but it’s impossible not to, because it’s fuckin’ _glorious_ and his cock thinks so to, as twitches against the harsh material of his trousers.

When the Omega’s disappeared the Alpha rearranges himself to the best of his ability and stands. Vision sharp, the Alpha starts towards the couple, but in his determination to get into the kitchen before Niall murders Josh, Harry doesn’t notice Zayn, and nearly kills _himself_ with his shit balance–then they’re falling. He’s not even righted himself when he goes for Zayn, gripping the Omega’s arm in attempts to get _him_ vertical again. Of course it doesn’t work. In the end both wind up crumpled on the floor, and the Alpha groans, sitting up again to help his best-mate, whose features are contorted with pain.

“ _Bloody Hell,_ ” Zayn gasps. “You’re a walking death-machine.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, then, “What the Hell were you doin’, racing down here like that?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” the other says, rubbing his cheek.

“’M listening,” the Alpha mutters–the new scent only heightens his need for _Louis,_ but at least Niall and Josh are long, long forgotten.

“Was thinkin’ to get another tattoo tomorrow.”

“Actually,” Harry says through clenched teeth. “I’ve been thinking too. And the whole tattoo scene is getting old. I think a piercings in order. Somethin’ different.”

“A piercing? Where?” the Omega demands, sharp eyes focused on him.

“Dunno,” Harry shrugs, then jokingly, “My nipples.”

Something lights Zayn’s eyes–well perhaps they’re a bit _to_ alike, _“Wicked,”_ they murmur at the same time.

“I’m in,” the Alpha nods, grinning wolfishly. “But, perhaps the whole nipple-piercing should stay between us. I dunno how Lou would take it.”

“Did I just hear _nipple_ and _piercing_ in the same sentence?” it’s Ireland, who prances into the doorway with a shit-eating grin–so much for keeping it between _two._

“Niall,” Josh calls softly before joining the Irish boy in the entryway, “I’m sorry darling, but did you forget we were arguing?”

“Of course _not,_ ” the Irish boy shoots him a murderous (his assumptions are confirmed). “I _paused_ our row because Harry’s getting his nipples pierced. Ah, piercings, they are something to behold on the right body,” and the glare turns into something hungry. Wincing, the Alpha looks away, disturbed.

“Anyways,” Niall continues, like he wasn’t eye-fucking Josh mere seconds ago. “We know the _perfect_ place not too far from here to get them done! We visited last summer! It’s where Josh went for his piercing.”

And the room seems to freeze–everyone avoids the others gaze (even Niall has the grace to _blush)._ Hell, _someone_ has to rip the bloody bandage, crush the elephant, the likes, and it doesn’t look like the others plan on it, so Harry manages, “Uh, what piercing mate?”

“A piercing in a special place you will never know of,” Niall recovers first–if Harry was doubting it before, enlightenment finds him in the worst of ways.

“Fuck,” the profanity is vicious as Harry runs a hand down his face, “I did _not_ need to hear that. You two _disgust_ me.”

“Whatever,” Niall snaps, then turning to Josh, with evil in those blue eyes, “Resume, you fucking _dick!_ ” And the two start at it again, just like that.

In disbelief the Alpha looks to Zayn, who looks extremely revolted, inhaling deeply before blinking. “Harry, mate,” he says slowly, around Niall’s insults, “You need to get ahold of your Alpha–I can smell it.”

“Workin’ on it,” Harry replies, but before he has the chance to _really_ focus on dominating again, Louis appears, in full-blow pouty-mode.

“You ditched me,” he accuses, gaze to the floor.

“No,” the Alpha stands, choosing to ignore Zayn’s look of concern to cross over to his Omega, “I was on my way. Just…got a bit side-tracked.” And when he grabs the boy’s hand, Louis sighs and inches closer (probably without meaning to).

“’Kay,” the boy mumbles, voice unusually quiet, then he blinks, doe-eyed, “You’re still _blazing,_ Hazza.”

“’m okay,” he lies–the Omega’s scent is causing the need to return, but it’s manageable, _has_ to be. “Let’s go.” Wordlessly, the Omega turns, their hands remain intertwined as Louis tugs him up the steps and into their room. Inside its too late to attempt to cool down before the flames rise, he’s _blistering._ Well, he’s gatta prepare for Hell somehow.

∞∞∞

                **I** t’s an endless thirty minutes before Niall emerges from his bedroom. Louis is upstairs with Harry, who fiddles with his laptop doing God know what, with one possessive hand around Louis’s ankle, hot as a brand as the boy drags his own fingers over the patterns of his book, to which he cannot manage to remember the name (and is too lazy to figure it out) becoming increasingly distracted by the patterns being shaped into his ankle; he thinks there’s a heart or two there, and with his face covered by his book, concealing his smile, Louis murmurs, “You’re drawin’ hearts into my ankles.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums in agreement, “What’s funny about that?”

And there the Alpha goes again, with those accurate guesses concerning Louis’s emotions. “Who says ‘m amused?”

Pausing, Harry sighs, “Guess I never got around to that. It’s weird…Like, there’s this co–,”

Before the Alpha can finish there’s an outraged shriek from another room. “Two hours! Two bloody hours!” Then, in comes Niall, muttering, “That’s it. We are leaving! I cannot stand to be _here_ another minute! “

In response, from their bedroom, Josh calls, “Two hours!” And the Alpha doesn’t even sound _fazed_ by his Omega’s wrath, rather the bloke sounds pleasantly amused.

Surely red-faced in his anger the Irish boy snarls, “I’ll be waiting outside! Five minutes,” before the door clicks shut behind him.

“That’s my cue,” Louis mumbles, sitting up and smiling softly at Harry.

Shutting his laptop the Alpha shifts, and that hand leaves his ankle to find his hand, “Don’t go,” he breathes, voice smoldering, but not commanding in the least. Instead, it’s like one last attempt at persuasion. Of course the Alpha must already know it’s not going to change his mind.

“Harry…” the boy starts, unable to finish because Harry leans down to kiss him, but pauses before his lips touch Louis’s–the Omega knows those eyes are searching his own, wanting, asking permission. Relenting, Louis raises his lips so that Harry kisses him, knowing he’s going to miss this for an entire four hours–he lets his resistance go. Involuntarily his hands move and twists into his thick curls, pulling him in, Louis’s mouth parts, waiting until the Alpha’s tongue teases his. Louis sighs, and the world dips and disappears from view as Harry’s hand grasps the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss, responding to his ardor.

“I can’t persuade you to stay?” the Alpha breathes between small, soft kisses.

“N-No,” though it’s not true, but… “’m going. It’s not forever–it’s only four hour.” Why does it sound so _long?_

“Now it’s two,” Harry mutters grudgingly, distancing them some as those fingers glide between Louis’s, intertwining their hands again.

“Really?” the Omega asks, arching an eyebrow, “When has Niall _ever_ listened to _anybody?_ ”

“A man could hope.” Still, nobody moves, their hands feel _locked._

“Haz…C’mon,” Louis sighs, “Lemme go.”

“Let me give you something first.”

Intrigued the Omega nods, and without another word Harry stands, crosses the room and grabs something. Settling beside him again the Alpha places that _something_ in his hands; when Louis closes his hand around the plastic card, a dark cloud of realisation comes over him and inwardly he cringes, “No. I don’t want this. Take it back.”

“Louis,” the Alpha groans. “Don’t–you’re going to take it because letting you go is literally tearing me up inside–knowing you at least have _something_ will make me feel better.”

Louis swallows, torn between guilt and pure, undiluted mulishness. But, sighing, the Omega nods, “You can’t just leave good enough alone, can you?”

“Lou, it’s not a big deal! Besides, it’ll be like a little Minnie-Me,” there’s that winning grin in the Alpha’s voice–damn him.

“Fine,” the Omega snivels, closing his hand around the spiteful plastic-thing, “I’ll take the bloody card.”

“Thank you, the codes thirteen-zero-one,” the Alpha murmurs. “Now, let me walk you downstairs.”

“No,” Louis says. “You won’t let me out that door if you’re downstairs, I know you. Or you’ll follow us or–,”

“Christ, Lou,” Harry interrupts, “I’m not a stalker!” Like the Omega’s going to buy _that._

Louis squeezes his hand, “Harry, please. I will miss you. You know I _will._ But I need some space.” _Because I need to know that I can still manage to be okay without you._

“Four hours,” the Alpha repeats slowly. “Just…be safe. And keep close to Niall– _no, Zayn,_ keep close to Zayn and–,”

“Harry!” Louis says again, grinning despite himself. “I will be fine. Stop _worrying_ so much. I’m not helpless.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Okay! Times up!” Niall declares, marching back inside. “Get your bloody paw off him, Styles.” And then the Irish boy bats Harry’s hand away–strangely, Harry lets go. Before Louis can stop Niall, because he certainly _wasn’t_ going to let the Alpha off the hook with _that_ comment, but the Irish boy really _is_ in a rush to leave as everything rapidly blurs by, and then Louis is stumbling down the stairs with Niall’s hand tight around his wrist–like he’s worried Louis’s going to storm back upstairs and change his mind.

“Two fuckin’ hours!” Niall rants on the way down. “Who does he think he is? My _dad!_ Hell, even my Dad would give me more time than that. Like, honestly, what the fuck are we going to do in two hours? Fuck that, _fuck him,_ I am going to stay out however long I want.” Louis is about ninety-nine percent sure that’s not going to happen–surely Harry figured this as well.

Louis smiles, because, “I wouldn’t know,” it’s smug, “I have four hours.”

In retaliation the Irish Omega squeezes his wrist, practically wrenching him down three more steps. “You two are a depressing couple,” it’s Zayn, who’s directly behind them now, and he’s haughtier than Louis. “I don’t have any time-span. Because Liam can’t say shit, I do what I want.” _For now._

Niall snorts. “Don’t worry, mate. It’ll come–maybe not today, or tomorrow, but it _will_ come and then you’re going to be _glued_ to Liam’s side.”

“I give it a month,” Louis adds.

Like it’s completely improbable, Zayn chuckles, “You’re on.”

Wisely, Louis decides to hold his tongue, because Zayn doesn’t seem to take well to being controlled, but the thing is, Liam _is_ controlling–even as an eleven year old boy it was always Liam who decided what they did, where they went, and all those considerable details both he and Niall always overlooked. So, the Omega is fairly confident that it’s only going to take a month before his best-mate becomes overbearingly protective of the Omega–a natural bonding result for _any_ Alpha.

With a loud, obnoxious, “WE ARE LEAVING!” Niall throws the door open and walks them into the garage, where one car sounds as it unlocks. “A car?” Louis asks.

“You didn’t _really_ think Haz was going to let us _walk,_ did you?” Zayn mutters, “Besides, he’s got about a hundred or so and it’s about time one of them is put to use.” Once again, Louis is reminded of Harry’s _wealth–_ which makes him extremely uncomfortable for some unknown reason.

Shaking himself the Omega climbs into the backseat and manages (after a few tries) to buckle. There, Louis retrieves his wallet from his pocket and stuffs the stupid card inside– there’s certainly _no way_ he’s going to use it.

“Where’re we goin’ anyway?” Louis wonders when Niall starts the vehicle.

“Shopping, of course–if we’re going out tonight we have to get _new clothes._ Your wardrobe isn’t proper enough for Operation Orgasm.” _Oh no!_

“Operation _what?_ ” Zayn sputters from the passenger’s side.

Turning sharply, Niall cackles, “Oh yeah! I forgot you don’t know! Louis’s gettin’ laid!”

“No!” Louis cries, flushing, “That’s…That’s _not…_ Oh, my God, Niall! I _hate you!_ ”

Without speaking, Zayn cranes around and Louis knows exactly when that curious gaze lands on him. “What exactly are you getting at, Lou?”

“It’s not a _crime_ to be _touched a little!_ ” he exclaims, mortified.

“You’re right,” the other Omega murmurs, and to say Louis’s shocked is an understatement. “’S not. And I’m not getting in your business, but I know Harry, Lou…And he thinks everything through.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Louis demands, mortified _and_ confused now.

“I’m going to get so much shit for this. But he’s convinced that you’re too young, or innocent, or whatever else to _know_ what you’re asking for. And I don’t think the fact that you might want any sort of sexual interaction has ever crossed his mind.”

“But…he says he wants me,” the Omega tells Zayn quietly. “And nothing ever comes of it.”

“Like I said, he doesn’t think _you_ want him that way. And if he _does,_ he thinks it’s in the natural, emotional way.”

“Exactly! That’s what I’ve been sayin’!” Niall pipes.

“Shut up,” Louis snaps, then to Zayn, “D’you think…if I do this it will make him _understand?_ ”

“It _could,_ ” his Alpha’s best-mate allows. “But, more likely than not, it’s going to make him _want you_ more, not make him think you want _him._ You’ve gatta take action.”

“Take…action?”

“Yes, Louis,” Zayn says as the car comes to a screeching halt. “I know Alpha’s–no, I know _Harry,_ and I’m telling you that words won’t work. You’ve gatta _force_ his. You want him, you gatta sit on his–,”

“ _Oi!_ That is _enough,”_ Niall squawks. “Do not _tarnish_ his tender sensibilities.”

Louis glares, “This is the _twenty first_ century, idiot! And anyway, _you’ve_ already accomplished that!”

“No, no I really _have not._ There’s a difference between following your _instincts,_ and following _directions._ ‘Cause that’s what going to happen if you test his limits–do you really want this Alpha to _fuck you?_ ” It’s so… _dirty–_ whatever happened to making love, or whatever?

Eyes wide as saucers, the Omega shakes his head quickly.

“Didn’t think so. You’ve gatta take it one-step-at-a-time! And eventually Harry will catch on. You can’t just spring it on him.”

“I’m so _confused!_ ” the Omega groans. “You’re telling me to go through this slowly. Zayn’s telling me to take action! What’s next? Is Li going to show up and claim the proper way is to wait it out until the Council blesses us?!”

“That _is_ something Liam would say,” Zayn mutters sourly. “But in all seriousness, Lou, we’re not you, and we’re certainly not Harry. We can only help so much–everything else is up to you. You’ll know what to do when it comes down to it.” _Yeah right,_ Louis thinks.

“ _But,_ ” Niall says, “There’s no harm in teasing him a bit.”

“None at all,” Zayn agrees deviously.

“Then can we _please_ get on with it,” Louis mumbles, “Because I’m pretty sure we’ve wasted over thirty minutes already.”

Just like that everyone is scrambling out of the car. From there both Niall and Zayn drag him into many shops to which neither could pronounce. And Louis tries on more clothes than ever before; it’s like from the films Lottie’s told him about, where the Omega goes with their friends and tries on clothes that their friends have chosen for whatever reason.

“I don’t like the shoes,” Niall says–they’re in the latest shop–after about fifteen outfits.

“Really?” Zayn asks. “I think they’re…interesting.” And the two go back and forth about it until Louis has had enough.

“They feel like _heels,_ ” the Omega grumbles, kicking them off and sighing in relief. “They’re staying right here.”

“Told ya!” the Irish boy says, and Louis can almost hear Zayn rolling his eyes before the Omega mutters, “I need a cigarette.”

“You’ll need new lungs too,” Niall calls as Zayn walks away, then laughs (when Louis asks what’s so funny the Irish lad only says “it’s the finger,” which Louis doesn’t understand, but doesn’t have the chance to care as another trip into the changing room is launched).

Too many outfits to count are trashed and the Omega is ready to give up when Niall tosses another outfit into the changing room. “Niiii,” he whines, shrugging out of the latest _‘no’._ “’M tired. We’ve been at this for so long!”

“Louis, I’m sure this is _the one,_ ” Niall replies–he’d said the exact same for the last twenty. When Louis tells him this the Irish lad snaps, “D’you wanna look good for your Alpha?”

Without bothering to respond Louis shimmies into the trousers (not even put off by the skin-tight-fit at this point). For some reason, the Omega runs his palms down his thighs and thinks; _this may very well be the one,_ before tugging on the accompanying shirt.

Meekly, praying this is it because it feels like _it,_ not over-the-top like those other outfits, Louis leaves the dressing room and walks over to where Niall and Zayn sit, waiting.

“Wow,” Niall’s first to breathe–Louis nearly breaks into a victory dance.

“Turn ‘round,” Zayn murmurs next, and there’s a tinge of admiration in his normal stoic tone. Without questioning him, the Omega does so, chewing nervously at his lip.

“It’s…Holy _shit,_ God save Harry’s soul,” Niall bursts out.

“This is it,” Zayn agrees. “The one.”

Curiously, Louis asks, “What colour are the trousers?”

“White,” Zayn answers slowly–and Louis searches his mind for the colour, but there’s nothing to find, even knowing he’s seen white before, when he was young. Slightly disappointed, the Omega shrugs, then fidgets, reminded by the material, that it’s _lovely_ anyway,and the delight returns.

Agreeing wholeheartedly, Niall shoos Louis back into the dressing room, where he reluctantly undresses (feeling considerably plain without the trousers hugging his thighs, and his bum) and pulls his own clothes on again. At the cashier Louis places the clothing down and hands Niall _his_ money where the Irish lad pays and then hands him the bags.

“It’s been two hours, Ni,” Zayn reminds. “You wanna head back?”

“Of course not!” the Irish lad doesn’t sound the least bit worried that he’s testing his Alpha. “We have _four_ hours, if I’m correct. And the outfit isn’t complete.”

Louis frowns, “What more is there…?”

“Shoes,” Niall starts, then gasps, “Oh my God! Victoria Secrets! Yes! YES. We _have_ too!” _Oh, no._

“I am _not_ going in there,” Zayn declares. “No. Fuck that. You are…” Somehow, the three end up in Victoria bloody Secrets and Louis is _never_ going to rely on Zayn to get them out of Niall’s schemes ever again. Because suddenly Zayn’s become part of _them_ and, much like Louis cannot seem to escape Niall’s wrath anymore than a fish can fight a shark–yes, Niall is the _shark,_ the Irish, bossy shark who feeds on everyone’s discomfort. Well, it’s not like Louis didn’t know that already, but Zayn…Zayn’s beginning to learn.

∞∞

               **I** t’s not even three minutes that the trios left when Harry’s on the phone, which rings only _once_ (very much worth thousands). “Styles, haven’t heard from you in a while. How can I be of aid?” that auto-tuned voice purrs.              

“Your best security,” he orders evenly before giving the necessary details: the vehicle, the shopping centre, descriptions, the likes.

“On it. But why exactly are my men following three Omega’s about Paris?” the nameless voice asks through the other line.

“You’re following three Omega’s because I’m _paying you too,_ ” the Alpha growls. “Ask another stupid question and you’re no longer employed.”

“We’ll be in touch,” the voice mutters before ending the call. Even knowing the boys are being watched by the most prestigious security team in the UK doesn’t _help_ as the Alpha paces around the cage-like room. Like this, his resolve begins to crumble, because his Alpha isn’t _having it,_ and the buzz _agrees._ Unexpectedly, someone knocks on the door– _gatta be Liam,_ who else _knocks_ anymore?–“Can we talk?”

“I can’t even _think_ to be honest,” the Alpha manages, clutching his head with one hand because his temples are throbbing cruelly, “Might wanna come back later.” _When I’m not about to lose my shit._

“It’s important.” _Of course it is,_ Harry thinks, remaining silent, hoping–stupidly–Liam might go away, but.

“I don’t want your scent in here,” Harry snarls when the door handle turns–there’s no helping it; he has to _claim_ something of Louis’s.

“Then come outside,” Liam murmurs pleasantly, the bastard. Whirling around, growling under his breath, Harry swings the door open, glaring at Liam for only seconds when he realises how absolutely torn up the other Alpha looks–it’s fucking disturbing really.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he mutters, scowling.

“Like what?” the other asks, shoulders slumped.

“Like you want me to cuddle you or summat!” Harry exclaims, instantly regretting his tone as pain shoot through the back of his head. Still, fuck it, the bit of pain controls him, makes him _careful_ of his actions. “Get it together, mate.”

Liam snorts, “Hate to break it to you, Harry, but you don’t look any better. Worse in fact.”

“Which one of us in their rut here?” the Alpha spits, inhaling before making a disgusted face, “And you fuckin’ _stink._ ”

“Look who’s talking! You should take a whiff of yourself,” the other retorts, straightening to his full height. “Your hormones are practically suffocating the entire place.”

“Whatever,” Harry snaps, crossing his arms and regarding the other Alpha with cool eyes. “Come on then, tell Papa Styles what’s wrong?” as he speaks his mouth curves into a forced, lopsided grin.

Liam bristles, glaring despite his soft eyes. “Rest assured, I’m going coming to you because…Well, you know Zayn, yeah?”

So that’s what’s up the Alpha thinks–makes sense. “Don’t we _all_ know him?”

“You know, you’re much easier to get along with when Louis’s about.” _Tell me somethin’ I don’t know–_ Louis brings out the best in him. Waving the words away with his hand, Harry waits until Liam continues.

“So, from what Zayn tells me…you’ve known each other a while now.”

“Six years,” Harry supplies vaguely. “What’s your point, mate?”

“Just…” and the poor bloke looks so _lost_ that Harry almost feels _bad_ for him, because he _does_ know Zayn. And he’s known the other in almost every way possible; they’d always _clicked,_ in the way that Zayn could see passed that dickhead, thirteen year old who hated the world, and Harry could see through the thirteen year old boy who hid behind arts, and cool eyes, but who’s ink-stained fingers shook whenever any Alpha approached him. And somehow the two most unlike each other would become one of the most important people in each other’s lives. One day, maybe those shattered moments won’t seem so shattered anymore. “Honestly, I don’t understand how the Hell _you_ managed to get through his walls. Because it’s so _difficult_ for me to even get him to tell me _anything_ about himself. And…I need to know that I’m not putting myself out there for no reason.”

_Well fuck._

Harry curses, “Damn it, Z!” then pins the Alpha with a pitiless glare. “He does this every bloody _time._ Finds the worst Alpha’s in the world to open up too and doesn’t even give the _alright_ blokes a second glance.”

At the stark rage on Liam’s features the Alpha runs a hand through his hair again. “It’s not him, you know,” Harry continues, willing the other to understand his honesty. “This whole _‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’_ bullshit–it’s not him…He’s just…” And he starts cursing again, because he _can’t, refuses_ to divulge information–it’s the sort of betrayal that’s burned Zayn too-many-times before. “I can’t…Just give him time, yeah? That’s all I can really say.”

“How long did it take _you_ to get him to open up?” the other demands–eye’s narrowed slits. Like Harry’s _competition–_ Jesus, hasn’t he _noticed_ that Louis is all Harry _looks at?_

Flinching, the Alpha mutters, “That’s different. Shit’s happened since we were two thirteen year old children.”

“Who’s hurt him?” Liam asks–that tone of his is really getting on Harry’s nerves now. “Why’s  he so _cynical?_ ” _Aren’t we all?_

“Liam,” the Alpha murmurs evenly. “That’s _him_ – _sure,_ it wasn’t _always_ him, but it’s not been _easy_ for him. Just don’t let him drive you away…He fancies you. He really does, but it’s going to take time for him to realise…that it won’t hurt him to fancy you any more than it did to fancy the others.”

Releasing a long, exhausted exhale, the puppy-eyed Alpha nods, “Alright, time…it takes time. I get that.”

“But, be warned, you hurt him, or toy with his feelings and I _will_ hunt you down and make that the other’s received look like Christmas presents compared to what I will do to you. Understood?”

With an annoyed growl the other Alpha bears his teeth, canines sharp and ready to sink into some flesh–his Alpha snorts, would like to see the other _try._ “Don’t threaten me, Styles. You have no right.”

“True,” Harry allows, nodding. “I don’t–but I won’t repeat past mistakes and watch another Alpha treat him like he’s nothin’. And I certainly _won’t’_ underestimate an Alpha’s capabilities. So, I’m putting it out there; put your hands on him, Hell, say on wrong _word_ and I will smash your face. Alpha to Alpha, yeah?”

There’s a split second that Liam looks shocked, but then his rage escalates to levels Harry’s felt many time before. “Please, tell me they didn’t?” it’s a cold breath–Harry can relate, but he stays quiet and lets the salt sink into the wound–and he doesn’t even blame Liam for his incredulity either, at first, when the rumors started he didn’t believe it…until he’d forced himself into Zayn’s house and saw it with his own eyes. “They _touched_ him?”

When the ugly memories start to come to mind the Alpha shakes his head to clear them, then laughs without humour. “You don’t even know the half of it.” And then he turns to isolate himself in the bedroom once again when Liam continues, “Jesus Christ. Tell me…”

“Like I said,” he sighs tiredly–he doesn’t enjoy bringing up the past, takes too much effort to feel shitty all over again. “Shit happens–trust me, they got what was comin’ to them.” And _more._

“Wait. There’s…one more thing.” Here it comes, the inevitable question he’s been asked by the paparazzi, his scare “friends” and even, at one point, the top-bastard (daddy dearest) himself. A question Harry’s _never_ once answered to anyone but Louis, because it wasn’t anyone’s _business,_ still _isn’t,_ but at this point, it’s becomes Liam’s.

Steeling himself the Alpha pivots around again and murmurs, “No. It was never _like that_ between us. We know each other far too well to even _think_ about it. And, unlike _some,_ I never fooled myself into believing my Alpha bonded with his Omega. We were careful to draw those boundaries. And in case you’ve not _noticed_ yet, Zayn is ninety-eight percent virgin.”

“Ninety eight?” Liam snarls.

Grinning wickedly, an idea sparks within him. “Never said we didn’t touch a little.” Apparently, Harry underestimates Liam a bit too much, as one second he’s mocking the other with his laughter and the next something slams between his shoulders. Hissing at the pain the Alpha tries to deflect (out of habit) but ends up being tackled to the floor from behind with hands clamped around his throat. Wow, Harry thinks, impressed, Liam looks _pissed._ This makes Harry that much more confident the Alpha is committed to Zayn–that’s the look of a bonded mate, he’s sure.

“You touch him again and I’ll _kill_ you.” _Well, well, well,_ look who’s earned his Doggy-Badge. Adorable.

And then there’s a mad scramble to their side, no doubt Josh rushing to separate them, but Harry isn’t having it. “Josh! NO!” he drags some air in. “Between me…and him.” There’s a second that his vision blurs, but then it returns sharply, and though he’s struggling for oxygen, his voice is forceful as always.

“Relax, Liam…you dumb fuck…” Deep breath, “Nothing happened…Just needed to get your attention. Now loosen…your grip.”

Without answering the other Alpha eases his hold, but doesn’t get off him– _christ_ the bastard weighs more than Harry’d initially though, but, whatever, the Alpha is too preoccupied with trying to breathe short breaths. A couple of times. “You feel your flow right now, Li? You feel that territorial urge? You’re bonding with him–‘s only a matter of time.”

“You are such a fuckin’ bastard,” Liam growls, then dismounts to let himself roll onto the floor beside him. “All this to prove a bloody _point._ I was about three seconds for _killing you!_ ” Highly unlikely. 

“I can think of worse ways to go,” he grunts, sitting up (his head spins with the motion).

“’M sure you can, masochistic fuck,” Josh voices now–extremely disapproving–Hell if Harry gives a fuck. “Always lookin’ for some sort of altercation.”

Grimacing, the Alpha rises to his feet,  and smoothes his clothing (leaving his disheveled mane be because there’s no use in rearranging it, as it’s grown too long, but he doubts he’ll even trim it anytime soon, he rather likes the shaggy look). “You know the directions to that place?” he asks, disappearing into his room to shove his wallet and keys into his back pocket.

“Yeah. But aren’t you going to wait on Z?”

“Fuck it,” Harry decides, shrugging. “’M sick of this place–it’s too empty without them. Besides,” he glances at his watch–a whooping twenty minutes had passed. Jesus, he’s pathetic. But as long as Louis doesn’t realise how _whipped_ he is, Harry could keep it together. Which is why he’s on edge right now; partly because he _is_ genuinely worried the boy could somehow get _hurt_ (because while he trusts Zayn with _his life,_ the Omega has a tendency to get caught up in his thoughts, and Harry really can’t trust _Louis’s_ life with anyone else) Harry’s also a tad worried that some fucking Alpha might approach his boy, and yeah there _is_ competition, and there’s not a second Harry is able to _forget that._ But, fuck if Harry _says it_ –a male has to have his _pride._ At least as far as the outside world can see. “We have more than enough time to spare.”

It’s when they’re on their way, with Josh in the driver’s side because Harry’s never been good with directions (he wasn’t joking that time on the way to the park) that Liam asks, “So…Where exactly are we going?” Oh, right, Liam’s out of the loop–probably for the best.

Harry goes to answer when Josh parks–rather quick drive after all. “You got a weak stomach?” Harry asks instead.

When the Alpha rolls his eyes, Josh grins, “Alrighty then, let’s see some nips!”

“Nips? As in _nipples?!_ ” Liam all-but shouts, “I don’t know what kinky shit you two are on about but I don’t want any part in it!”

At this Harry laughs–because _honestly._ “’M getting my nipples pierced, fucker.”

“Oh,” then, “Why?” Ah, Liam, ever-the-practical-minded.

“You know,” the Alpha comments as they start in direction of the little shop called _‘the Edge’_. “Not _everything_ has to have some logical or _deep_ reasoning behind it–if that were the case I dunno what the Hell my excuse would be for half the tattoos on my body.”

“There _are_ quite a few,” Liam says, eyeing his arms distastefully. “Like, why the fuckin’ _screws,_ of all things?”

“Excuse _me,_ ” Harry scoffs, “Have you _seen_ Zayn’s tattoos? Don’t give me shit when your Omega has _Zap_ splattered on his bloody arm.”

Inside, the three wait while a couple speaks to the highly-tattooed cashier, planning to get matching tattoos, and the Alpha wonders, idly, whether they’ve been blessed by the French Council or they’re like him and Zayn, who got matching hearts just for the Hell of it. As they’re holding hands, he figures it’s the first.

Uncaring, Harry looks over the shabby-shop, and his inner-critic comes to life. “Are you _sure_ we should take their word for it? I mean look at this place, it’s about two seconds from falling apart,” he bites bluntly. “And the bloke doesn’t even speak English. I’m starting to think maybe I should’ve waited until we returned home.”

“Take the piss, Styles,” Josh mutters, amused. “Trust me, this place is _perfect–_ my cock’s still hanging ‘round, mind the pun, so that’s proof enough.”

Disgusted, the Alpha shakes his head at Josh, then Liam starts in.

“Just get it over with,” the other grumbles, planting himself against the counter. “The moldy stench is making my head hurt, and don’t even give me that _‘doesn’t speak English’_ bullshit. You speak French for fuck’s sakes.”

“You, my good Sir,” Harry says, smirking, “Need to take that dic– _stick_ outta your arse. I was only referencing the legitimacy of this place.”  Then, turning to Josh, “And _you_ –my nipples disappear I’m bashing your head in.”

Rolling his eyes, like Harry’s _joking,_ the other Alpha says, “I wouldn’t–then you’d have to deal with Niall’s wrath–,” Harry shudders at the thought, “but, enough of this, let’s go get some nipples done.” Groaning, Harry allows this, giving the French artist–named Abel–very strict, specific instructions. And it’s quick, practically painless, then there are two steel-bars through each of his nipples, and sensitive as they’ve always been, they’re extremely sore, but the ache feels _hot_ in the right ways. As he’s shrugging back into his shirt the material catches the little piercings and Harry hisses, thinking this could work out. Once they’ve paid, leaving a considerable tip for Abel (brilliant bastard) the three walk back to the car, and Harry checks his phone to find no texts or calls reporting anything out of the ordinary, which must be good.

From there Josh declares he’s hungry, so there’s another twenty or so minutes of pondering where to go before the three end up at some place Josh claimed to be paradise–after the last place the Alpha doesn’t quite believe him, that is until Harry sees this _huge,_ lit-up sign that literally reads _Paradise._ Throwing an easy arm around the other Alpha’s shoulder, Harry grins, “You sly bastard. Could’ve elaborated. Rather showy, but it’ll do.” And throughout lunch the Alpha tries not to think about Louis; instead focusing on stabilizing his Alpha again. Even so, his mind works because his email is _packed_ with work from his assistants and school-work, so much _work,_ but Louis’s having fun, it’ll probably take a few hours to read through everything…Louis _enjoys_ reading, though his attention strays to quickly, Louis, Louis and Louis. Well, he _tried._

Someone thumps him on the shoulder, “Styles,” Josh says, "Not to sound paranoid, but I think that bloke over there is taking photos.”

Following his gaze, the Alpha finds a stocky bloke, looking anywhere but at them, but yeah, there’s a rather fastidious looking camera in his lap– _obvious much?_

With a pointed glare in warning, Harry turns back to Liam and Josh, sighing, “Ignore it. They’re just lookin’ for a story. It’s pointless to approach ‘em, they’re like leeches, only they feed off your _words_.”

“Does this happen much?”

“Not at home,” Harry mutters. “They know better. But when it comes to the outside world…”

“Tough,” Liam says, sympathetic enough that the Alpha’s hands fist. “I couldn’t handle it–we don’t have to stay, if you know…”

“It’s cool,” Harry says, “Like I said, ignore them.”

Looking unsure, Liam nods, and then strikes up another conversation that Harry can’t seem to focus on because his skin crawls–every single move is being watched and the Alpha _hates_ it, knowing that tomorrow there will be one shittier article about Harry Styles–and his mistakes will slap him in the face once again.

Finally, when the others have finished their meals, the Alpha throws a few pounds down and doesn’t bother to wait, hoping that the rest of the leeches haven’t gathered outside. Well, sucks to suck, he thinks when, as soon as he steps outside the first flash goes off. Keeping his features smooth, Harry shoves through the throng, ignoring their calls and shouts…but then his ears catch it, _“LOUIS TOMLINSON!”_ And his body stops dead.

First mistake–stopping to listen.

“Is it true!?” one woman asks over the other calls. Another flash. Several _clicks._ “Have you finally found your mate?!”

Second mistake– _hesitation._

“Tell us! What makes Louis so special?” And he _hates_ hearing his Omega’s name on their grimy mouths.  
“Were you blessed?! When’s the ceremony!?”  
“What does the Council think!? And your Father?!”

“HARRY! HARRY! WHO IS LOUIS TOMLINSON!?”

By now the Alpha can’t tell which direction the lot’s in, and the leeches are clinging to him, feeding. But he remains silent, shoving through their slimy bodies until breaking the barrier and inhaling the scentless air ( _heaven)._

Snarling, he whirls around, going to make the third, fatal mistake– _answer to them_ , because he’s _fuming_ and _tired_ and his skin is on _fire,_ but someone grabs his arm, and one familiar voice speaks, “Jesus, they’re _shameless!_ ”

“Let’s go,” Harry hears himself say as he turns his back to the leeches and makes his way out of the infested water. As he doesn’t trust himself (to not drive the car into a tree) Harry takes the passenger side, staring blankly through the windshield. Should’ve been more careful, a little voice hisses, now you’ve brought Louis into _it._

Shutting his eyes, Harry ignores Liam and Josh’s insults (because ‘ _how could they possibly know about Lou?’_ and _‘those fuckin’ creeps!’_ ) only muttering, “Don’t go to the penthouse. Just…drive for a bit. Don’t think they know where we’re staying, and I don’t want them to find out.”

And so they drive, and drive, and drive until the Alpha cannot stand being in the vehicle for another thirty minutes and decides they’re in the safe. Back at the penthouse, Harry returns to their bedroom, and doesn’t leave, preoccupying himself with the stacked up work in his email until he’s partly through, and his mind is loaded with information he’ll no doubt make use of once he’s back at the manor. And the idea of going back, of returning to reality, causes his stomach to churn and his chest to burn from the inside out.

Slamming the laptop shut, the Alpha stands and sheds his clothes, encasing himself in the shower, wincing as the scolding torrent reaches his nipples, then shuddering at the intense sensation, some mixture of pain and pleasure–which is totally fine with him. A long time passes until he’s towel drying his hair, dressed again–in an open-collared shirt that reveals his swallows and is thin enough to show the steel-bars, black skinnies, and heavy, black boots.

Deciding its best _not_ to check the time again the Alpha sits on the end of the bed, zoned out as he stares at the rings on his fingers. And he’s so focused on absolutely _nothing_ that Harry doesn’t hear the door open, doesn’t even notice the bed creases with extra weight until slim arms circle his throat, and his Omega’s voice breaks through his mental-barriers. “Hi.”

With an unsteady exhale, Harry shuts his eyes, and feels his muscles relax a bit, but he doesn’t speak (because his voice might break, and he’s not inclined to sound so…so _wrecked_ ).

“Heard what happened today,” Louis whispers tentatively. The tension returns as Harry’s hands become fists at his thighs–but he still doesn’t speak.

“Haz…” this time it’s… _upset_ as the boy’s gentle fingers run through his curls, probably ruining the careful style–but fuck if Harry _cares._ “C’mon, talk to me.”

“How was your day?” he asks very quietly.

“It was…weird,” the Omega mumbles. “I missed you–I think next time we’ll settle on two hours, yeah?”

“Why the change of heart?” his curiosity gets the better of him.

There’s one beat of silence before Louis nuzzles his throat, sweet breath warm on the skin of his throat, and answers (words muffled), “I don’t like leaving you alone. Scares me to think that every time I leave…I’ll come back to this. And we’ll have to start all over again.” And this boy _never_ makes sense to him–which usually is one of his appeals, but not right now.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“That’s okay,” the boy breathes. “Not everything has some deep, philosophical meaning behind it.”

At this, Harry cannot help but smile. “I told Liam that same thing today. But I don’t think he got it.”

“Pity,” Louis says–but his amusement pours through the bond and for the first time in hours Harry’s mouth curves into a face-splitting grin. “But we’re much smarter than the lot downstairs, aren’t we?”

“Thought I was stupid?”

“Sometimes you are,” the boy mumbles openly–to which the Alpha can’t help but _laugh_ at. “Like now,” Louis continues, and this quiets Harry again, “Mopping in this room because some pap know my name.”

“I…I never wanted to bring you into this, Lou,” he breathes, swallowing around the lump in his throat, “I don’t want you exposed to this shit. And–,”

“And nothing,” Louis interrupts, gripping his curls forcefully. “You think I didn’t expect this? They were bound to figure it out some time, Hazza. And so _what?”_

“So they’re going to take pictures of you, and say horrible things, and–,”

Sighing, the Omega untangles from Harry, who turns to watch him cocoon himself in the blankets until only his fingers are visible. “What’re you doing?” Harry demands.

“Shielding myself from your negativity. Don’t talk to me unless it’s what I want to hear.”

“What do you want to hear, Lou?”

“I want to hear you say that it’s okay–because that’s what I need to hear right now, okay? And then I want you to tell me that, while we’re here, you’re going to forget about _them_ and the C-Council and the future and the s-s-stupid, _stupid_ things you w-worry about,” the shaky outburst shocks Harry into reality. And he realises that the paparazzi isn’t scaring Louis, the Council isn’t scaring him, the future and all that they have to worry about _are not scaring this boy–_ but _he is._ Freezing, cold, _terrifying_ emotions crash into his chest, sinking beneath his skin and filling the spaces between his ribs–eating away at his warmth.

With some nameless noise that Harry refuses to acknowledge the Alpha stretches out beside the boy and pulls that beautiful, _tiny_ body into his arms. And the Omega doesn’t struggle or fight against it, rather the boy places one dainty palm over his cheek, and wide, blue eyes stare evenly.

“Why’re you so good to me?” the Alpha starts unsteadily. “’m not good enough for you. I’m insensitive, and a short-fucking-fuse, and I am impossible to get along with sometimes, and I know I don’t make it easy…I don’t…I don’t deserve you.”

“And maybe I’m _too sensitive,_ and I push you too hard sometimes, but too me you’re so easy to love. But I think…I think that one day you’re going to realise I’m not enough, and I’m not who you want, and it’s _me_ who doesn’t deserve _you._ And that scares me more than any paparazzi or Council…or _anything._ I…I don’t need to hear the words…I don’t need _easy_ and I don’t need an Alpha that always agrees with me, or sugar-coats the truth or lets me _hit him and get away with it!_ I need _you._ That’s all I’m asking for. Not some stupid car, or some stupid card, or some stupid gifts or _words…_ Just _you.”_

 _Just me…_ Harry doesn’t realise he’s repeated this until the boy giggles stuffily–scrubbing hastily at the tear that skates down his cheek.

“Y-Yes, idiot,” he whispers, smile watery, “Just my Hazza.” Without meaning to the Alpha begins to plant sweet kisses over his beautiful face, ignoring Louis’s giggling because _‘just me’_ continues to blare in his mind and the words mean more than _anything_ –more than the world, more than the Council, more than _life._

“Thank you,” the Alpha breathes hoarsely against Louis’s mouth now, “Thank you.” In response the boy only makes one sweet noise–and Harry thinks those words won’t ever mean more than _Louis_ himself. Because Harry can live with being used for his money, and he can live with being used for the fame, but he couldn’t ever live without Louis Tomlinson.

“I-If you keep kissing me, H-Hazza,” the boy breathes into his mouth now. “’M going to forget your gift.”

“Gift?” he doesn’t separate their mouths, Louis does, grinning impishly before sitting up, “Mhm!”

“What kinda gift?”

“You’re about to find out,” is all Louis says, all sparkling cobalt eyes and bubbly excitement. Not knowing what to make of _this,_ the Alpha waits as the Omega scrambles to the side of the bed and grabs an unrecognisable bag, pulling the _‘gift’_ out and placing it in his open palms.

Blinking, Harry slowly peers down at what’s in his hands, and like always, Louis’s managed to shock him again. And again. And again. Hell, the Alpha might be shocked into next year. Because _this_ must be the shock-of-the-year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okkkaaay then! Hahaha, SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED >:) Let's hear the thoughts (which I love so, so much!)
> 
> .xxxx


	15. Part Fifteen;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, darlings! I'm so sorry that you've waited so long. But here goes;  
> UPDATES; Chapter 13 is no longer in parts (it was just too long) so the parts are all their own chapters. Including this one & the next.  
> ALL MY THANKS TO YOU LOT! YOU ARE THE BEST (anyone who says otherwise is either stupid or insane) I am so nervous & I really, really hope you all enjoy it!:)  
> NEXT, many thanks to my ever-brilliant Beta, [bestBetaeva!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com)  
> Also, thanks to my spectacular sister, [bestSistereva](http://fondlemezayn.tumblr.com)  
> LAST: HERE'S THE PRESENT FOR VISUAL (hahah) [cockypresent;)](http://bazzlebabble.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/feb-asombroso1.jpg)

Harry stares at the object in his hands. And stares. And stares until Louis mumbles, “You…You have to open it…I…um, I know it’s not like…Niall said you’d appreciate a drink…and so I w-wanted to like add something f-from me…And um…”

Swallowing, the Alpha’s hands circle the…cock-shaped bottle, bringing it close to his face, examining the design and scrawl finding it’s tequila of some sort. Swallowing again, clearing his throat, the Alpha mutters, “Lou…”

“Open it!” the poor boy sounds close to tears. “Like I-I put _my_ gift inside t-the cap, it’s held by the cork…” Reacting to his Omega’s distress, he places the bottle beside him on the duvet to pull Louis into his lap. In seconds the boy’s curled up there, so disappointed that Harry beings to laugh–Jesus, he’s laughed during this trip more than he’s laughed in his entire life, the throaty laughter escapes his mouth without any indication of ceasing. And while he laughs the Omega remains quiet, his emotions muddled, but the image of the knob-shaped bottle continues to flash through his thoughts and the Alpha can’t _stop_ laughing, it’s cathartic and unstoppable.

“Oh, darling,” he breathes between chuckles. “You’re so…Fuck. You make me so happy.”

Louis squirms, then blows out an irritated breath, “Why’re you laughing?” But he sounds so hurt that Harry’s laughter _does_ cease, and the Alpha peers down at the Omega who’s made himself unbelievably tinier against his chest.

“Lou.”

Hiding behind his hands, the boy doesn’t respond. With an entirely too fond sigh, Harry pries those hands from his face, hooking two fingers underneath his chin so those distant, gleaming eyes are exposed to him. “Love, I’m not laughing at you. I’m…Where’d you get this bottle?”

Louis shrugs helplessly. “N-Ni picked it out…and then I-I decided a bottle wasn’t enough. So…I put the ring inside to s-surprise you.”

Of course _Niall–_ that little bastard. “Love…this bottle is…it’s shaped like cock. Chillingly so.” _Or maybe I’m a pervert–_ honest, who knows?

Assessing his words, those vulnerable eyes go round and delicious pink stains his cheeks. “What?!” he screeches, voice higher than normal. Rooms away, perhaps on ground-level, the Alpha catches maniacal Irish-accented laughter–that little Irish bastard, he thinks again, more fond than he’d care to admit.

“I…I didn’t…Oh, my God,” Louis cries, scrambling out of his lap and into the duvet, working underneath the throw before pulling a pillow over his head.

“Not this again!” the Alpha exclaims, amused. “Kitten, come on. Don’t hide!”

“No,” Louis moans, seemingly horrified. “That’s so _embarrassing._ He is so _evil._ Why is he so _evil,_ Harry?”

“It’s the Irish blood,” Harry comments, plucking up the bottle again and tugging the cork open in one fluid movement. A ring tumbles in his lap. Interested, the Alpha catches the band between his fingers and examines the piece in his palm–a single, steel band with cobalt gems engraved within its circumference. More indescribable emotion rises inside his panging chest as Harry closes his hands around the ring–in attempts to quell the sensations his main focus becomes breathing as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“I…I…” Louis shuffles and then is on his knees beside him, but the Alpha’s eyes remain shut, knowing there’s no chance he’s going to look at this Omega and continue living sanely. “I…know it’s not like flashy o-or anything…b-but it’s blue, yeah? A-and I was told it’s the colour of my eyes and I thought maybe it’d…remind you o-of me…?”

 _Practically everything reminds me of you–could listen to a law lecture and think you’d_ hate _this because it’s boring, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention, you’d probably be distracted–_

“It’s…perfect,” he manages, seconds-too-late. “I…Thank you. It’s…” _Get it together, Styles._

“Really? You like it?” the hope carries in his voice.

“Of course I do,” the Alpha murmurs, slightly puzzled by that question, eyes opening to gaze at his little Omega, holding the duvet to his shoulders, looking outrageously nervous and hopeful and–, “I love it.” _If you put a bloody pebble in my hand I’d love it._

And the Omega’s answering smile lights up his entire face, but his gaze lowers as he nods. “Is it the colour of my eyes?”

Even knowing the colour of Louis’s irises by heart, the Alpha murmurs, “Let me see them.” When the boy raises his gaze, still smiling, Harry doesn’t even bother looking at the ring again, because nothing compares to Louis’s gaze–the shade has this muted life to it, this dimmed intensity that nothing, not even the most magnificent gem, could ever compete with.

“I love it,” he simply repeats, even though the colour of those eyes and the gems etched into the ring are identical, it’s not nearly close enough _._ “It’s…the colour is stunning. Like your eyes. And I…Fuck, I love it.” To prove so, Harry slips the band onto his right forefinger, smirking at the sight.

Louis bites his bottom lip. “Is that all you can say, Styles?”

“Can I thank you?”

With the little _v_ appearing between his brows, Louis starts, “Didn’t you alre…?” But his words falter because Harry brings him into his lap, wrapping his arms around the boy’s slim waist and resting his chin above Louis’s soft, gentle hair. “Thank you, kitten,” he breathes fervently, because that’s what one says when they’re grateful–still, as Harry’s not accustomed to receiving gifts often, it makes his heart do weird shit in his chest. “You make me happy. Really happy. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy.”

“You deserve to be happy, Harry,” the boy whispers–words that the Alpha hopes are true as the Omega believes, but doesn’t quite believe himself.

“Only if you’re happy.”

“Well it so happens that ‘m only ever happy when I’m with you, Alphaboy.”

“Even when I’m being an insensitive, temperamental prat?”

Louis giggles, burrowing his face in Harry’s throat; the sensation of his cold nose on Harry’s skin isn’t one the Alpha’s likely to forget–ever. “Even then,” he breathes, then continues thoughtfully, “I told you, I fancy every Harry, and thus _every_ Harry makes me happy.”

“Even Prince Harry?”

“Harold…” the Omega warns, rubbing his nose against his throat, “You’re ruining the moment.”

And the Alpha can’t help the laughter that rumbles from deep in his chest; he _lives_ to tease his little Omega. “My most sincere apologies, kitten. I simply _had too._ ”

“Now I’m curious,” Louis declares.

“When _aren’t_ you?”

One, small hand shoves at his shoulder lightly. “Oh shut up,” the Omega mumbles, then, “What’s the point of the Crown?”

“Mostly show,” the Alpha tells him matter-of-factly. “I mean, this is Britain, darling, we fancy our monarchy.”

Against his throat Louis sighs wistfully. “We do.”

“And we obey our Council, yes?”

“We do,” the boy repeats, tilting his head a bit. “But really we obey our Alphas. Beta’s included.”

“ _They_ do,” Harry corrects sharply, contracting his hold on the boy’s delicate waist–his scent thickens around them, marking his Omega. “You obey me, little one.”

“Not at all,” Louis contradicts even as one short, unreasonably sexy purr follows. “But whatever helps you sleep at night, Styles.”

“ _You_ help me sleep at night,” Harry breathes, feeling that tell-tale heat climb in his body.

“Dunno how,” Louis mutters. “’M a horrible lay–wait, I mean...” At that the Alpha chuckles, though it’s short-lived as his skin bursts into figurative flames.

“Hush,” Louis scolds, “You know what I mean. I don’t sleep still–that’s mostly why ‘m not allowed to fall asleep anywhere near the girls. Am I bruising you?” _Quite often–call me masochistic, but it makes me never want to sleep beside anyone else again._

“Nope,” Harry lies. “Made out of steel, I am.”

With an amused snort the Omega begins to laugh as Harry pouts, then huffs, falling backwards to meet the mattress. Like this, Louis is sprawled over his lankier frame. Above him the Omega tries to roll away, but Harry places one, steady hand on his hip, keeping him in place.

“Stay,” he breathes, unable to help it, he’s on _fire,_ and his cock’s throbbing in his trousers, but at this point Harry’s not beyond taunting his own body or fanning the flames.

Against him Louis relaxes, trailing one hand down his shoulder, flattening his palm over his heart, unknowingly tracing the start of his left swallow (some measures from his left nipple piercing). “Take me out tonight,” Louis says quietly, pulling his bottom lip between his sharp canines.

“Wherever you want,” Harry blurts, realising seconds-too-late that those words are going to come back to fuck with him.

“Promise?” And there’s the regret.

Nonetheless, “I promise.”

“We want to go drinking.”

“We?” Harry asks between gritted teeth.

“Niall, Zayn, and I.” _Note to self–those two, bad fucking influences._

“I am _never_ leaving the three of you alone together again.”

“You promised,” the Omega reminds him, voice small, beseeching, sensing the Alpha’s disapproval.

“I know,” he mutters bitterly, carrying the heel of his palm over his eyes. “Damn me.”

Giggling winningly the Omega sits up and clasps his hands together. “Thank you, thank you!” And then he dips forward, and breathes, “You make me so, so happy, you know.” 

“I’d _better,_ ” the Alpha growls lightheartedly, shifting so Louis ends up beneath him, grinning despite his irritation. Like this his frame shields Louis’s, but the boy doesn’t seem to mind the sudden change in position, which makes Harry smirk, thinking he belongs here, underneath him _._ “Cause then ‘m being daft without reason, kitten. And that’s unacceptable–I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Don’t worry, Hazza,” his delight is pouring over Harry. “Your big bad Alpha-Wolf reputation is safe with me.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry growls, “Prove yourself, little _fiend_.”

Louis laughs, then bats his lashes, tilting his head a bit as if to regard him, “Don’t you trust me?” _I shouldn’t–I really fucking shouldn’t, you have too much power over me, you’re the only one who can keep me warm._

“Not for a second.” But too keep him from thinking into those words the Alpha leans forward to kiss him; mouth soft and gentle and willful over his, unable to help that his tongue runs along Louis’s bottom lip; taste-buds alive until Harry drops his head to the boy’s shoulder. Beneath him Louis breathes fast, heartbeat pounding against his chest. 

“Should…” Louis starts, inhaling once again before continuing, “Should I start getting ready?”

“You’re going to have supper first.”

“Harry–,” he starts to protest but the Alpha kisses him again, silencing him.

“Enough.” When the Omega sighs, Harry continues, making it apparent that the subject isn’t up for conversation, “And don’t pout.”

There’s only a seconds silence before Louis sighs in defeat. “Fine, before you start obsessing over my eating habits,” when Louis pushes at his chest, Harry turns onto his back beside him. Sitting up the Omega goes for the bags beside the bed, there’s a small _zip_ before he’s crossed-legged beside him again, hand outstretched.

Grudgingly, the Alpha takes the card from Louis, who’s…oddly smug. “I didn’t use it so you won’t have to like check for bills or anything.” Like Harry _ever_ has to check for bills.

Something prods at him and the Alpha stiffens, sitting up. “What do you mean you didn’t _use it?_ How did…?”

Now, hearing the anger in his voice, Louis bites his lip, meek. “Haz, please, don’t–,”

“Louis. Please, tell me you didn’t…” he’s raging inside–this ring, this _bloody ring that feels like a rock on his finger now,_ must’ve cost more than a few hundred pounds.

“It wouldn’t be a _gift_ if I’d purchased it with your money,” the boy snaps, there’s something extremely anxious in his voice.

“No,” Harry says, quietly now–trying to rein his temper. “Louis, this…No. You should not have wasted your–,”

“It’s not a waste!” Louis exclaims, almost matching his anger. Almost. “It’s not…” his voice softens, those eyes raise–begging him to understand something he couldn’t possibly. “You asked me to accept your gifts, yeah? And I did–I accepted every single one.” Harry goes to argue (because the boy had _fussed_ and _raved_ against ‘ _every single one’)_ when Louis finishes, “Now it’s _your_ turn. Accept…or you can give it away or let it collect dust some place, but I am not taking it back.”

And the Alpha wonders when _this_ happened, when Louis learnt to manipulate–without warning the tables have turned and Harry _hates_ feeling so out of his element, especially now that he’s torn between feeling _touched_ by the boy’s persistence, the thought that he’d went through the trouble to do this, and _pissed_ because God damn it, it’s Harry’s place to spoil _him._ “Lou, you know I wouldn’t…”

“One way or another I’m not changing my mind. So, this conversation is over.” Well fuck.

“So,” Harry starts, grinding his teeth. “Are we eating in or out?”

Seriously, Louis shrugs, thoughts having strayed. “Up to you. Meanwhile, as you’re figuring that out, I am going to throttle and then possibly destroy a certain Irish twat.”

Disregarding the last bit, the Alpha says, “I’m thinking take out…”

“You lazy _slob!_ No. You’re cooking,” the Omega decides, ever-the-contradiction, scrambling out of bed, hands trailing on the bed post as he starts for the door–the Alpha thinks, when he sees his trembling hands leave the support of the furniture, that Louis’s memorized the rooms arrangement, so he doesn’t have to use his hands.

“Definitely take out!” he calls when Louis disappears from view, heading in the correct direction, but using his hands again–sliding them on the walls–guiding his Omega, no doubt, is the ruckus the others are making, curses and conversations…just _noise._ Until there isn’t noise, there’s one, brief pause, then a surprised yelp followed by deep laughter, “Serves you right!” Josh states over Niall’s shrieks and Louis’s insults.

“Just wait!” his Omega shouts, voice reedy. “You are _next,_ Malik!”

And as the Alpha rises from the bed, deciding he _can’t_ miss this one, he’s once again reminded by Louis’s influence over him. Because more often than not Harry goes into isolation and _stays there_ , locked up tight with his thoughts, unshaken by any of his Father’s commands, by Zayn’s bitching, or societies guidelines…Yet without even _trying_ the Omega’s managed to return him to reality.

Pausing before the entrance of one of the many guests room, Harry tries to think rationally, reasonably, _logically,_ like all the Council’s books have taught him... 

Only one rational thought finds him: _I am giving away more than I have to offer…_

But, there goes rationality, because right now he doesn’t really care.

**∞∞∞**

           

                Though Louis is _irritated_ beyond all sensible measures, and his hand is tangled in Niall’s hair, they’re both laughing–even as the Omega yanks at the tuff of hair in his grasp, attempting to get this Irish monkey _off of him._

With one, cruel heave, Louis manages this, rolling onto the carpet, then straddling Niall, who’s cackling beneath him so much that the Omega wants to scream. Because screaming feels good–better than spouting words that he doesn’t mean in the moment of anger. “You are so _bloody evil!_ ” he does scream, and his throat is going to hurt from this later, but he doesn’t really care as he shoves the other’s face into the carpet–if he weren’t his best mate Louis’d give him some serious carpet-burns.

“I’m _FUNNY!_ ” Niall shoots back and Louis uses his other hand to pinch his side, earning another yelp.

“Knob-shaped bottle, Horan!” somehow or another the two end up rolling again, and in his attempts to rise first, his hand connects to the material of someone’s trouser-leg. “Aye! I didn’t–,” ah so it’s Zayn, who sounds pleasantly amused, watching the struggle. With another, banshee-like (it’s rather perfected, seems he’s learnt something from the girls after all) shriek, Louis wraps his arm around the other Omega’s thin leg, letting Niall’s pull on him, taking Zayn with them. Just like that the unsuspecting Omega loses his balance and topples over, coincidently landing on Niall (karma) who winces at the extra weight.

“Ha!” Louis calls, rising unsteadily to his feet; his head rushes a bit, but he manages to remain upright. “Admit defeat or suffer the consequences.”

“Yeah fuckin’ _ri–_ ,” Zayn starts, but Louis curls his fingers into claws and threatens tightly, “One more word, Malik. One more and you’re gonna regret it.”

Both grumble underneath their breath (Louis is sure he hears _“twink”_ in there) as he places one hand on his hip and prompts, “I’m sorry, come again. I missed that.”

“We are _sorry,_ ” Zayn caves first.

“What are you even saying?” Niall protests, sounding disgusted. “I am certainly _not–,_ ” before the Evil-Irish-One even finishes Louis is starting forward, towards his voice, but halting his advance, someone grabs his hand, “Alright, love,” it’s Harry, of course, who’s long, lithe fingers fit between his. “You’ve gotten your revenge. I think it’s safe to say they’re sorry.”

“Niall’s not,” Louis pouts, glaring in the Evil-Irish-One’s direction.

“It’s _Niall,”_ Harry says, mouth brushing his ear. “He doesn’t matter.”

“Heeeey! Now that’s–,”

“Shut up, _cunt!_ ” Louis hisses, and when Harry nips at his jaw shivers run up his spine.

“Language, darlin’,” he breathes as the Omega twists, hiding his face in Harry’s chest, calming within seconds as that scent settles over him. “But he’s mean,” Louis tells the material of his shirt. “And evil.”

“Can’t really blame him,” the other murmurs, almost pitying. “’S in his blood–barbarian savage.”

Louis grins, and nods in complete agreement–teasing and joking like this, taunting Niall, pleases him greatly.

“Come, I’m going to cook. And you’re going to help me, yeah?”

At those words, Louis perks up. “Goodbye, _peasants!_ You’re not even worth my time–I’ve a higher calling!” And then the Omega tugs Harry out of the room with Niall calling, “Wait! Guy’s what’s for dinner?!”

∞∞∞

           

                Of course dinner isn’t exactly _civil_ –because someone ( _Zayn_ is the traitor, he’s sure, because he’s sitting in that direction and _surely_ it wasn’t Liam) tosses a piece of _chicken_ at Louis which promptly starts a food-fight because Louis manages to miss Zayn completely (he couldn’t tell his exact location–the lad was purposefully _quiet_ so Louis was _surely_ set-to-miss) and get’s potatoes in Liam’s hair ( _“Tommo, my bloody hair!”)._ From there it’s chaotic and messy until the Omega finds himself ducked underneath the dining table, avoiding most of the edibles being tossed around.

Someone lands beside him and Louis cringes, thinking he’s been caught when a deep, memorable voice curses, “Damn it, this is why we can’t have anything _nice!_ ” the voice hisses (with all the commotion Louis nearly misses it) but then Harry’s calling, “Let’s move,” and trusting the Alpha, the Omega takes his hand. They manage to wriggle forward, laughing as they slip on some sort of food upon their quest to safety.

At last they’re reached the safe-haven; Louis squeezes into the space (between the sofa and the wall, he thinks) where nothing can reach them. There, the Omega leans into Harry, who’s completely soiled, worse off than he is. “Managed to save some dessert,” Harry whispers wolfishly and Louis absolutely _adores_ him. And he almost says exactly that, but then two fingers swipe icing of some sort over his cheek and Louis pouts, “I thought we were _allies,_ ” he hisses, curiously swiping his index finger over the sticky frosting, sucking the sweet-topping and moaning at the taste.

Chucking the Alpha manages to press one soft, barely-there kiss onto his mouth–Louis’s heart soars in ways that should be impossible, or illegal at the very least.

“Harry?! Loooouiissss! Where are you?!” Josh calls–from there it spreads like wildfire and in seconds the search has begun. Louis pouts, not wanting their time to be up. Apparently the Alpha agrees, pressing two fingers to Louis’s lips with a soft, “Shh.” Nodding, the Omega hides his face in the slope of Harry’s throat, inhaling the scent of food and cologne and Harry, knowing once they’re found, they’re done for.

Mutters are nearby. And their shield is dragged away from them; the four hoot and shout in victory.

“These cunts _hid!_ ” Niall shrieks. 

“Get ‘em!”

In response to the latter the four begin to hurl the remaining food at them. To say they’re completely covered becomes an understatement. Just when the Omega thinks it’s finished, he gasps as ice-cream (where did _this_ come from? Had they raided the fridge!?) smacks into his face. At that, Harry laughs, and more edibles are targeted at him ( _karma,_ my darling Alphaboy, _karma_ ).

Somehow the Omega manages to wrap his arms around Harry’s shoulders, and somehow those arms pull him in. Though Louis keeps still, the Alpha doesn’t, whispering, “You’re right–they’re fuckin’ _evil._ But…I’m quite fond of these idiots.”

“I’m quite fond of them, too. Our idiots.”

Without warning, bottles are shaken, cans open and explode all over them–ice-cold, sticky, and fizzed.

In the end, Harry sends Zayn and Liam out for takeout, because “ _your Omega started all this! Get your bloody arses out there,”_ even as Louis insists, _“’m really not hungry anymore, Haz. I’ve had enough!”._ There’s no fighting a determined Harry Styles.

Thirty or so minutes later, still in ruined clothes, Louis sits cross-legged on the carpet (the table is still in ruins) while the Alpha sits beside him and slides a plate across the carpet before him.

Sighing, the Omega doesn’t touch the fork that Harry’s extended to him.

“You. Will. Eat,” his voice is deeper–if possible–with an Alpha’s certitude. Lowering his useless eyes, Louis sighs again, but takes the fork and stabs halfheartedly at the (broccoli and lamb) dish, shoving something (broccoli, he finds) into his mouth.

And, well, maybe he _was_ still hungry. All the while Harry watches him (his gaze is so _heavy_ on Louis, almost _burning_ through him) as Louis chews and swallows each bite.

“’M sorry, Haz,” the Omega apologises, vaguely upset that the Alpha isn’t pleased with him. In response, there’s a second shift (shrugging, he’s sure), “If you’re going to drink tonight, Lou, you need to eat.” Then he goes back to eating (probably more than halfway finished. Stupid, bottomless pit).

But, he’s relieved the Alpha doesn’t seem seriously angry–still, to please him, Louis eats until he’s partway through and very, very full. When he’s about to claim so, Niall declares it’s time to get ready, tugging Louis from his spot beside Harry. Shooting a farewell smile in the Alpha’s direction, the Omega let’s himself be dragged away.

From there, he’s ushered into the shower, washing his hair _four times,_ and scrubbing his body thoroughly, before leaving the steam-filled space. Outside, Louis doesn’t have the chance to gather his thoughts because Niall is waiting and promptly begins to mess with his damp hair, pondering whether to style is up or leave it fringy until finally deciding, “I think Harry likes it best this way, let’s tease it a bit and remember to keep it outta those pretty eyes, yeah.”

Dutifully, Louis nods, smiling through the minutes where Niall messes with his fringe until _finally,_ much to the Omega’s glee, the Irish lad tells him to get dressed.

Scampering into the room in nothing but a towel, the Omega crouches at the bed where his bags were left, snagging the only articles of clothing there and unraveling the towel in his excitement.

“Oi! Wait, wait, wait!”

Squeaking, the Omega covers himself _there,_ and feels his entire face light in flames as Niall continues carelessly, “You’re wearing _these_ tonight,” and the Irish lad grabs his arm, placing some sort of material in his hand. 

Nervously, Louis closes his hand around the odd material and asks, “W-What is this, ex-exactly?”

Laughing, the Irish boy says, “Panties, of course!”

“I–,” Louis sputters, then manages, “I am _not_ wearing knickers! No way! Not me! Not Louis!”

“Shh,” Niall hisses. “Keep your voice down! Those bloody Alpha’s have some super-sonic hearing or whatever. And what did I tell you about referring to yourself in third-person!? Anyway, _yes,_ yes you are wearing them.”

“Why?!” Louis asks through clenched teeth.

With one deep, exasperated sigh, Niall growls, “Because, we are conditioning yer arse.”

Not understanding, the Omega fidgets, then realises Niall isn’t budging and asks quietly, “Well…are they at least _pretty?_ ”

Giggling now, the Irish boy says, “Of course! They’re lacy! And black. And will look so perfect hugging that ass of yours.”

“Okay,” the Omega acquiesces, licking his lips hastily before telling the other to turn round because he’s self-conscious and doesn’t want to even _think_ about being seen in pretty, lace panties. He’s a _boy!_ Boy’s do not…they don’t wear _pretty, lace panties!_ Not even Omega’s, surely. Blinking back tears, Louis slowly brings the lace up and over his arse. Admittedly, the material feels…pleasant enough, and does hug his arse in those magical ways that makes Louis feels especially pretty. It’s…pleasant.

With a small, relieved sigh, Louis crosses the room to his messy, open luggage (having memorized its location) and searches until he’s pulled out his lotions and sprays. Applying each the Omega finally feels ready to let the white trousers work their magic–when they’re on his heart is racing and he’s ecstatic at the tight, stretched feel, running his hands down his thighs. Right now Louis feels…sexy–and he’s giddy because he wants to be sexy for Harry, who deserves sexy–who makes Louis feel sexy.

“Okay?” Louis asks, chewing uneasily at his bottom lip.

“Okay!?” Niall squawks. “More like stunning. Glorious! _Bootiful_!”

With an exasperated breath, the Omega mutters, “You’re not funny.”

“Yes, I really am,” Niall calls happily, starting in direction of the door. And when Louis tries to follow the Irish boy stops him, “Ah ah! You’re staying here! I’ll be right back–stay _._ ”

Floundering, Louis stays, toying with his hands as the minutes tick by unbearably _slow._ So…slow…Unable to stop himself, Louis places one hand on the doorknob and carefully twists it so the door opens slightly. It’s very quiet and the Omega figures the coast must be clear. So, he steps outside with one, guiding hand on the wall, sliding with his movements…but he hasn’t quite gotten the area memorized and missteps.

Fumbling the Omega tries to balance, but it doesn’t work because abruptly there’s another hand gripping his arm, and his Alpha asks, “Lou, what’re you doin’?”

There’s something _hot_ in his voice, causing shivers to crawl up Louis’s spine. “I…I…” he tries, but then he’s air-bound, the breath knocked out of him. Lightheaded, Louis doesn’t even struggle, then their bedroom door is being kicked shut behind them and he’s on his feet again, staggering even though Harry’s hand remains circled around his wrist, keeping his vertical.

“Turn round, kitten,” the Alpha orders in that _voice_ that makes Louis’s insides melt. Wordless, the Omega turns, holding his breath as those eyes bore into him, causes his hands to tremble and his heart to race. And it feels like forever before Harry speaks again, “Now face me.”

Despite being fully clothed, Louis feels so bared, and doesn’t realise he’s closed his eyes until the Alpha crowds his space, tainting it with that fascinating scent, and some nameless current pulses between them, “Oh,” Louis sighs, overcome by the force, the _need_ rising inside him.

“I feel it, too,” the words are mere breaths, but they sooth his anxiety, hold him immobile as his body reacts; his skin warms, breathing short, and down there he’s aching, no, _everywhere,_ he’s aching _everywhere, all over._ And he craves his Alpha’s _touch,_ desperate as every Omega gene that makes him wells up, “Please,” he breathes, because suddenly he needs to beg.

“Please what, kitten?”

“Please…” his voice is too reedy. “Please, please touch me.”

“Only once,” but it doesn’t sound like Harry’s even speaking to him–it’s more like he’s reminding himself–were Louis not so desperate he’d be upset over this. _Why is Harry reminding himself not to touch me?_ “Just a bit.” Before the Omega’s thoughts reach his coherent mind, Harry’s bending, so that Louis reaches up and tangles his hands in those thick curls, waiting as the Alpha’s mouth brushes his, their breaths mingle. Hands tightening, Louis breathes again, shivering, “Please, Harry.”

Just like that the Alpha’s mouth claims his, lips demanding, firm and slow, molding their mouths. And the Omega whines at the sudden rush, high and broken as he responds eagerly, fisting Harry’s curls, clinging to him. Unprepared for this, the Alpha goes tense, but there’s something building inside Louis, and he _needs_ to do something to make this happen. Needs it. _Needs it._ With a slight jolt, Harry growls, one arm circling his waist, closing the space between them so Louis’s body is soft against his solid frame, mouth releasing frantic, little breaths as the Alpha’s sharp canines tug at Louis’s bottom lip.

This urgency shocks him, but his mouth parts wantonly…except the Alpha doesn’t give him what he wants. Instead, Harry’s mouth curves into a smile against his as the Alpha’s breathing slows, “Knew it.”

Louis exhales shakily, unable to move. “K-Knew what?”

“Knew your enthusiasm was going to become an issue,” it’s a faint whisper against Louis’s mouth before those hands bring him higher, so the Omega removes his hands to clasp them around Harry’s neck. “And this outfit. Fuck. Little one, I ‘ave half the mind to strip you out of this outfit. And then you’re going out in bubble-wrap. A lot of it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Louis replies breathlessly, trying to stifle his giggles, and it works because Harry’s tongue strokes his bottom-lip, sending heat through his belly.

Against his mouth that grin widens, cheeky. “Oh, Lou, love, have you learnt nothing in the short time we’ve known each other?” And one hand bears down on Louis’s lower back, so his petite frame is impossibly closer against Harry’s tall, slight one. Meanwhile the other hand moves to cup the back of the Omega’s head, protecting it with his knuckles as he backs them up, to the wall. Daring, the Omega runs his tongue along one of the points of the Alpha’s canine, and Harry groans.

 _He groans because of me,_ Louis thinks hazily. A groan that’s feral, erotic, and the Omega will remember this sound, the way it vibrates against his lips, echoing into his mouth, for the rest of his life. Blood heated, Louis’s skin blooms under the Alpha’s touch–he’s never wanted more than to feel Harry’s arms around him, their lips locked. 

There’s no Council. No paparazzi. No past. Just them, breathing each other in.

But the Omega has the mind to seize his opportunity, running his fingers through Harry’s curls again, grasping two handfuls and kissing him, tentatively meeting the other’s seeking tongue. Inhaling sharply, the Alpha shakes his head. “Gonna soil your lovely outfit like this, Louis.”

Cheeks warm, Louis whispers dizzily, “Lovely?”

“So fuckin’ lovely,” Harry murmurs. “All eyes on you tonight.” 

“Only your eyes,” without permission the words glide passed his lips, barely a breath. “Only want your eyes on me. This is for you.” Regret swamps him instantly as the Alpha’s last reaction to this similar statement comes to mind.

“Is that so?” the question shocks him momentarily, his lips softening impossibly against the onslaught. Really, how does the Alpha expect him to respond when he’s clouding his thoughts with sensation?

“Yes,” the Omega manages to venture nervously.

“Mm, I quite like the sound of that.” Another, harsh breath.

Shuddering, Louis breaks the contact, struggling to breathe even as his lungs work. After a breathless moment the Alpha pulls back and uses one, large hand to removes Louis’s arms from around his neck, Louis’s hands from his hair. Still thoughtless the Omega doesn’t realise he’s on his feet again until the Alpha tips his face back, planting another sweet kiss on his mouth. It’s still while Harry’s eyes remain on him, searching his face, or maybe his eyes. What he finds, Louis couldn’t know, but his hand reaches up to caress the Alpha’s face, slave to the moment.

“We have to do something _you_ want to do now.”

Louis blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve noticed you’ve gone along with everyone’s plans. The beach. The outing. The club. I want _you_ to have fun doing what you want–anything you want.”

“I’m…Harry, I don’t–,”

“Hush,” the Alpha whispers. “Think about it. That’s all I’m asking. Besides, I’ve plans for us too. There’s something I want to do with you.”

Louis bites his lip, curling his fingers at Harry’s jaw. “I don’t recall ever agreeing to this.”

“Are you disagreeing?” he asks, mouth at his temple.

“Neither. I’m waiting for you to…elaborate.”

“Mmm. I’d be very pleased if you did agree,” Harry murmurs, lowering his face to sprinkle barely-there kisses down to his ear, there he breathes, “Will you agree?”

More heat settles over Louis, whose heart flutters. “N-Not unless I know what I am agreeing to.”

Determined, relentless the Alpha continues, at ease, lips ghosting down his throat, pausing to breathe over that spot that makes Louis’s knees weak and his body tingle from the inside out. “Now?”

“N-No,” Louis shakes his head, not recalling what he’s disagreeing to. “No…Hazza–,”

Pointed, careful teeth close over the sensitive skin at his throat and something warm, and vicious, shudders through him. Louis’s mind just…blacks-out–he collapses, senses fading out momentarily. “Louis?” the Alpha’s voice is alarmed as his arms hold the Omega up.

“Still…not…agreeing,” he mumbles dizzily, letting Harry’s arms support his weight as his head continues to spin uncontrollably.

“Christ you’re stubborn,” the other growls–Louis grins weakly, resting his head on the Alpha’s shoulder, unable to stop his Omega’s reaction as he purrs throatily, clutching the heat-source.

“Kitten, don’t pass out on me,” there’s a trace of misplaced stress to his tone–the Omega frowns.

“’M not,” though Louis isn’t so sure–he’s feeling spacey, and the sensitive skin burns for more attention.

“I don’t believe you. C’mon, stand up.”

“What,” Louis mumbles, absorbed in complete sensation.

“You’re not…You need to…lie down.” _In bed?_ The idea intrigues Louis, who agrees, wrapping his heavy arms around the Alpha’s waist, his legs going around the Alpha’s lengthy ones as Harry tires to shuffle forward, towards the bed. Walking seems to become very, very difficult, but Harry’s _blazing_ and Louis can’t seem to let go.

There’s one, slightly amused chuckle. “Lou, love, I can’t move like this.”

“Mmm,” the boy hums into his shirt, inhaling his scent, adding to the haze.

“Don’t fuss, kitten, but I’m going to carry you.” And before the Omega can think to protest, the Alpha’s scooped him up and carried him across the room in three, large steps with his ever-constant ease. Then his body meets the plush mattress…but Harry doesn’t follow.

“No,” Louis mumbles, making grabby hands (towards nobody in particular as he can’t know where Harry is, he’s so quiet right now). “’S cold. And I…Please, stay with me.”

There’s one, heavy breath, but this time the Omega gets his way as Harry stretches out beside him, long, lean muscles, shoulders set tensely, an agitated air to him now. Uncaring, Louis crawls into his lap, curling up there and nosing at the Alpha’s throat, whispering, “You make me feel weird.”

Somehow Harry manages to become tenser, though he says nothing, and slowly the tension eases from his frame. “I’m sorry, little one. I shouldn’t have…” but the rest fades out as Louis’s senses grow faint once more; but his breathing evens and his heart slows.

In a rush, the Omega’s sense return again–the atmosphere is _hot._ Very hot. _Uncomfortably_ hot–there should be high flames burning them at this rate. Yet there is no pain, because the heat emits from Harry’s body. Though his memories are weak Louis can tell, by the material twisted between his legs, and the body beneath his, that he is in bed with Harry.

With a start, the Omega’s eyes open, unseeing, but helpful to remind him that he is indeed awake–his heartbeat is an insistent _thump thump thump_ giving him away, but Louis easily ignores this.

“Hi,” Louis whispers tentatively into Harry’s shoulder. Again, the Alpha stiffens, and his _heat spikes impossibly_ –almost burning him. Inhaling sharply the Alpha replies, throaty and deep, “Welcome back.”

“I…I don’t know what happened,” he admits, flushing to the tips of his ears. “I…I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Louis,” Harry says, tone achingly flat. “I shouldn’t have touched you. And I am sorry for that. It was unacceptable and disrespectful–had I been in the presence of another Alpha I’d be locked up for that.” _Locked up? In jail!?_

“What?” Louis breathes, horrified, sitting up and regretting it as his dark world spins a bit. But he refuses to let this happen. “No, Harry, it’s not–,”

“That’s where an Alpha’s bond belongs Louis. I should _not_ have even…” _Oh. Oh, no wonder,_ Louis thinks, realisation comes over him–every factions (Beta’s included–but that’s tricky) been warned against bonding an Omega before mating, it’s one the utmost crimes one could commit. Not that the Omega cares at this moment.

“Well that certainly explains the reason I reacted like that. I didn’t mean too but it felt so…” _beautiful, blissful, right_.

“Did I hurt you? And don’t try to spare my feelings or something other bullshit, Louis.”

“I…” Louis fumbles, licking his lips hastily. “’M okay, Haz. Honest. It wasn’t–,”

“Damn it, Lou. I knew _better._ I _know_ better. I’ve never pulled something like that. Jesus. I can’t keep fucking up and putting you in danger. I could get us both–,”

“Harry!” the Omega practically shouts to get his attention. “Shut up! Just…I _liked_ it, okay! It…It made me achy.”

There’s a beat of silence before Harry speaks again, “Achy?”

 _Oh, no, shouldn’t have said that._ Embarrassed, Louis throws one hand over his heated face and whispers, “Down there. It made me achy d-down there…a-and when you did that…I know it’s wrong, but it happens and I don’t know how to stop it and I…I’m really sorry, Harry. I’m tryin’ to be good but I don’t know _how._ ”

“Oh, love,” the Alpha breathes, tugging him close, stroking his fringe from his face as Louis blinks back mortified tears. “Don’t be embarrassed, Louis. It’s…Christ, it’s nothing to be embarrassed over, it’s _natural._ God, no, there is nothing wrong or bad about that, Lou. Don’t be sorry. ‘M so stupid sometimes. I didn’t think…God, I _never_ think. But I had no idea you were quite so innocent, darling boy. You’re sexually attracted to me and that’s…perfectly fine. Better even. Hell, if you weren’t I’d be more than a bit offended.”

“O-Offended w-why?”

“’Cause I am quite handsome, remember? And I want you–Christ, Lou, I told you I _burn_ for you. Do you feel me right now? I’m so sorry I hadn’t realised…you aren’t familiar with sexual desires.”

“So…’M not bad?”

“Of course not, silly boy,” Harry laughs quietly. “You are so, so good.”

“No! NO HE IS NOT!” comes an Irish shriek and Louis moans miserably, knowing their time is up. Surprise, surprise Niall barrels inside, ranting, “First he leaves the room, _then_ he spaces out! Third…” as the Irish lad continues the Alpha whispers in his ear, “ _You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you,”_ and it’s his singing voice, rough and hushed beneath Niall’s constant fuming. And the lyrics, the tone, the _voice,_ calms Louis, who listens attentively, “ _…pardon the way that I stare, there’s nothin’ else to compare…but if you feel like I feel, please let me know that it’s real…_ ”

Of course the Omega knows this song, knows the lyrics by heart even, and every word tugs at his heartstrings. Until Niall realises they’re not listening and shouts thunderously, “I AM STILL HERE! Louis Tomlinson, let him _go,_ we are running _late_ already. And Styles one more damned Frankie Valli lyric and you won’t have _any eyes to stare with!_ ”

Even blind, Louis manages to glare directly into Niall’s _soul,_ but admits defeat within seconds and scrambles out of Harry’s lap. Growling the Alpha rises and starts in direction of the connecting-bath, singing louder than Niall could ever shout, “ _CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF OF LOUUUUU!”_

Without the Alpha’s presence, Louis goes into complete pout-mode, “You wouldn’t really leave me, would you?”

“Nah,” Niall agrees flippantly. “But I had to separate the two of you somehow. Now c’mon let’s fix your hair.”

Smiling softly, Louis takes Niall’s hand and lets the Irish boy lead him out.

**∞∞∞**

           

Completely ignoring Niall’s threats, the Alpha takes his sweet damned time in the shower, leaning against the sidewall, knuckles white in attempts to keep him in the shower and not outside and forcing Louis into bed, forcing– _stop._ Okay, so maybe it’s not so much that Harry doesn’t take the threats seriously, more so that his rut is at its very peak now–inside his blood is almost magma and his vision won’t focus for Hell and he’s so damned hard his cock pounds in time with every heartbeat.

 _This_ is Hell, Harry thinks, deciding not to even stroke his cock again as the base is swollen with his knot–there will be no hiding the fuckin’ thing if it continues this way. Except it _is_ going to continue this way because nothing, not even the freezing, iced water does anything to alleviate the _instinctive_ ache, the _fire_ inside him.

With some effort the Alpha manages to finish up, hastily drying and changing into a fresh outfit (all black–low-cut shirt, tight, ripped skinnies, heavy, steel-toed boots). Once that’s over with Harry runs his fingers through his hair, thinking to do something about the mess when there’s one, tentative knock on the door.

Just like that, knowing instinctively who it is, his entire frame tenses, muscles shifting and straining. And he takes the sweet, floral scent eking passed the doorframe into his lungs–at this rate, there might be flowers blooming in his bloody ribcage, but that’s a whole other issue. There isn’t time to stop it–one second there’s clarity, the next his Alpha’s in control, and his rational mind abandons him as Harry storms over, throwing it out of the way to crowd the young boy’s space. It’s his Alpha’s first and only time seeing Louis in his animalistic light, and he finds Louis looks ethereal, wide-eyed, lips parted, body soft, with its luscious curve, made to touch, made for _him_ to touch. “Kitten,” it’s his Alpha-voice too, a voice he’s never heard before, rough, deep, _crazed._

Louis blinks adorably though his eyes never focus. “I…I was meant to tell you something,” he breathes in a soft, faraway kind of voice.

“So tell me,” the Alpha drawls, running his knuckles down the Omega’s heated, sharp cheekbone, careful and light in all those affection ways only an Alpha touches his or her Omega.

“I can’t…remember?”

“Try,” Harry breathes, his Alpha savoring every breath, every wide-eyed blink and reaction, because once Harry’s fenced the bastard in, there’s no chance he’s returning again, not tonight at least.

“Haz…” that one, lone word slams into his lungs, the soft, questioning tone, the breath, the…Sharp current spikes, some unheard of noise escapes his mouth and then his hand curves along the boy’s cheekbone, raising his face as Harry bends to accommodate the Omega’s height. There is no breath…When their mouths meet, there is no breath. Movements shockingly cautious the Alpha’s tongue dips and traces, relearning the contours of his sweet mouth, tasting the delicious essence of his Omega.

This is more than any other kiss. So much more. An Alpha’s promise of an imminent, lifelong bond. _Mine,_ his Alpha snarls inwardly. “Mine,” Harry claims, branding the word into Louis’s mouth. “You’re mine.”

Soundless, Louis nods, releasing little, frenetic breaths that Harry swallows hungrily.

 _Enough,_ Harry thinks, breaking the kiss to nuzzle Louis’s throat, breathing raggedly there. With more effort than usual, he focuses on mentally trapping his Alpha–the bastard doesn’t make it easy, putting up solid resistance and _‘fuck-you’s-_ until with one last surge of energy Harry manages to constrain the bloody animal.

Strength momentarily failing him, Harry’s knees buckle, and in the distance, blurred by static, the Alpha can make out Louis’s frantic, “Harry? Hazza? Are you alright?!”

 _No,_ he thinks, _no I am not alright, this is my Hell, this is what I get to suffer–desiring what I should not be allowed to desire._ “’M…fine,” is what he hears himself say, but it’s unconvincing even to his own ears. “Just…need a minute.” Or some centuries–the waves pull him under but the Omega holds him in a careful embrace until the tides bring him back.

That’s when the Alpha notices how tight his grip has become on Louis’s waist, and relaxes it, muttering into his belly, “Sorry. Just…lost it, for a sec I think.”

“It’s…”

“For the love of all that’s holy, Louis Tomlinson I gave you one task, _one,_ and–,” it’s Liam, who walks in with suspiciously hard eyes, spotting them the other Alpha pauses, then has the grace to look sympathetic which makes his Alpha snarl. “Oh. Well. Here we are, then. Er…we need to get going. Yeah, that’s the plan.”

Rising to his feet stiffly, the Alpha brings Louis with him, lacing their fingers and managing to grin lopsidedly at Liam. Charming as ever the other Alpha shakes his head and stalks from the room, grumbling under his breath. _Whatever._

At that Harry rolls his eyes, but then his gaze settles on Louis once more. “Well, come on then. Lead the way,” he tells the boy, who smiles hesitantly, but shows him out nonethless. 

**∞∞∞**

Silencio is one of the most exclusive clubs in France, some miles outside Paris–experience and all that. Without a glance towards the long, stretchy queue the Alpha strolls to the entrance with one arm wrapped around Louis’s waist, the others trailing them. Disregarding the grumbles from those waiting (most of who won’t be getting in at all anyway, idiots) the Alpha is greeted by the bouncer. A large, body-builder type Alpha whose name Harry’s never bothered to remember, nods in welcome as they’re granted immediate access. 

And as they’re making their way towards the archway the atmosphere shifts. It’s sudden and unexpected but then emotions are reeling through him–wonder, excitement, anxiety. Such a combination that Harry doesn’t notice that Louis is clutching his hand so tight it nearly hurts, “Sure about this?” he leans down to ask, tempted to turn round and leave when the Omega pulls this sorry fucking excuse for a smile.

“Nervous, that’s all. I…I don’t wanna get lost…or…or…”

“You won’t,” Harry assures him. “I will be watching.”

Louis shakes his head at that, “And you said you _weren’t_ a stalker.”

“Perhaps a bit,” the Alpha allows, leading them inside, losing the will to continue the conversation as his words will only be lost in the almost-deafening music. Through the archway the inside of the club’s obscurity stretches through the vast dance floor where the crowd moves with the pulsing pastel lasers while remixes and upbeat music (the shit he _loathes_ ) twirls through the humid air. _Movement._ The entire place is in constant movement: bodies, music, drinks. And this is where Harry’s comfortable, but that doesn’t matter because already he can sense it’s too much for Louis.

As the boy huddles into his side, chewing nervously on his bottom lip, strobes of colour meet his face–in this darkness he looks lovely, so lovely that his Alpha is instantly on alert, assessing the dozens of factions, glaring in direction of the nearby Alphas who’ve stopped to look.  Even pinning them each with _‘try-it-and-it’s-your-life’_ glares it takes quite a lot to keep himself from baring his canines.

No, the Alpha decides, they are most definitely not staying here; it’s too open, unprotected. More than that, it’s his rut, it’s making him…dangerous, a short-circuit that’s shot and ready to strike with the lightest prod. And he’s not inclined to lose himself again tonight. So, Harry tows his Omega, letting the other’s follow, towards the VIP lounge. Wisely the crowd gives way before them, parting.

“Mr. Styles, welcome back,” calls one of the bouncer’s, a Beta that Harry vaguely remembers from his trip last August, let’s them into the best estate in the club. Here, in relative quiet (compared to the outer vicinity, that is), the seating is widely-spaced with much distance, and it remains dark, with only single lights from the ceiling at the entrance. 

With a quiet, “In,” the Alpha ushers Louis into the booth, watching him shuffle in those bloody white trousers that are so tight they’re a second-skin, hugging his arse perfectly. After seconds of staring Harry manages to tear his gaze away, ignoring Niall’s knowing look, and Zayn’s slightly amused one, to join Louis who’s he’s leaning against the cushion, where it curves to give an impressive ( _unnecessary)_ view of the dance-floor.

Without giving them the chance to really settle, one VIP waitress (another female Alpha) comes to the table. To other’s she must be pretty, but the Alpha doesn’t have any interest in…well, anyone, except Louis. None of them compare to Louis–and it’s quite ironic that all bonded Alpha’s must think much the same of _their_ Omega’s. Who, again, are nothing compared to _his_ Omega. Upon introducing herself (Harry wasn’t listening, too intrigued in Louis’s wide-eyed, eager expression) the female asks what they’d like to drink.

Of course Niall is the first to answer, “Hardest you’ve got, Jen!”

Grinning pointedly at the Irish lad, she calls, “Good lad!”

And it doesn’t go by unnoticed how Josh shifts the Omega into his side, expression masked by the shadows, even as Niall pats his hand on the table, obviously amused as he grins back at ‘Jen’. Saving his Alpha from any more jealousy the other’s begin requesting for themselves: water for Liam, who apparently is the designated driver now, which is unsurprising–one of these days the Alpha vows to get him smashed, and some sort of alcoholic beverage that sounds suspiciously close to “Legspreader” but in French for Zayn. When the female looks to Harry, he’s still staring at Louis.

“Cristal,” he murmurs idly, thinking to go very, very light (chilled champagne’s surely never hurt anyone) then to Louis, “The same, little one?”

“Why thank you, Sir,” and he stresses the last word almost flirtatiously, batting his eyelashes in Harry’s direction deliberately.

Unable to resist the Alpha asks slowly, “Are you flirting with me, kitten?”

“Yes, Styles, I am,” and it seems the Omega’s gained something from the atmosphere, some sparkle that threatens to blind Harry with its provocative glare–that is a chance he’s damn well willing to take. “What are you going to do about it?” With the waitress long forgotten Harry catches Josh or Liam (probably the latter) tell the female Alpha, “I reckon it’ll be Cristal for now, thanks.” _Good lad._

“’M sure I can think of something,” Harry evocates, almost soundless beneath the music.

Somehow the Omega catches the response as his mouth hints at one of those smiles, or perhaps this one is novel; a smile identical to his attitude, teasing, _coy_ even. Shifting, Louis opens his mouth to speak when the waitress (Jean? Jenny? No, Jen, that’s it) reappears, speaking fluent French to another waiter before gracefully setting their drinks down; one bottle of Bourbon whiskey is situated within a shimmering glass container of ice (who the Hell asked for this?)

Much like the first time when the Alpha hands Louis the Cristal, the Omega sips at the light alcoholic beverage, scrunching his nose adorably–but this time he doesn’t miss one beat. Meanwhile the Irish lad’s downed three shots of Bourbon–warily, Harry raises an eyebrow at Josh, shouting, “Is he usually this…enthusiastic?”

“Oh this is only the beginning,” Josh mutters grudgingly. There’s one brief instance that Harry almost feels bad for the other Alpha, but then recalls that _he’s_ going to be handling Louis tonight–who, virgin to the world of intoxication, is a light-weight.

With that the Alpha zones out, not paying much attention to Louis, who’s chatting with Niall now, continuously grabbing at the glass of champagne. On their own accord his fingers begin to tap rhythmically on the marble, then his foot starts in, and he’s shifting his weight. Jesus, Harry can’t stop fidgeting–and Zayn seems to notice as well as the Omega kicks him from underneath the table.

Cursing the Alpha glares at his best-mate, shooting him a look that says _‘what-the-fuck?’_ until Zayn rolls his eyes, calling, “Good there, mate? Looks like you’re boutta shed your skin.”

“That’d be a fuckin’ shame, considering my hair would go with it, I think.”

“Some people might say that’s a miracle,” it’s said jokingly, but without reason some unexplainable rage pierces him; pressure settles over his temples and shoulders and chest and _everywhere._

“And those people are blind fuckin’ _morons,”_ the words crawl up his throat and out his mouth before Harry even thinks them. Tensing, the Alpha glances at Louis who isn’t listening, preoccupied with whatever Niall’s prattling on about (he’s the only one who seems to _really listen–_ because the Omega is caring and lovely that way, unlike him).  So unaware. Grotesque guilt begins to fester inside him.

Abruptly, Zayn stands, “Outside, mate, you need some fresh air.”

 _‘Cause the air in here is so very different,_ the Alpha thinks angrily, but manages to keep his mouth shut, nodding numbly. When he goes to stand one small hand lands on his forearm, and though the touch is light…somehow it feels unbreakable, holding him immobile.

Unable to keep his gaze away, Harry looks down at Louis and is doused in another bout of self-disgust at his previous words. “’M goin’ to step outside for a bit, Lou,” he explains over the music, momentarily sidetracked by the stabbing fear that seeps from the Omega, creating some toxic-blend within him.

“B-But you said–,”

“I won’t be far, love,” he breathes, slightly pained. “You need me, Louis, tell Josh or Liam and I will be right here. I promise. I…just need a moment.” _Or forgiveness, a slap-to-the-face even._

Looking extremely unsure the Omega retracts his hand. Instantly Harry misses the contact, and before he can stop himself he’s grasped Louis’s hand, brushing his mouth over his knuckles, inhaling the dulcet scent at his wrist, repeating, “I won’t be long. Need me, I’ll be here instantly.” Sliding from the booth (easily as no one is seated beside him) the Alpha pauses, meets Liam’s gaze, sharing a second-moment (Harry willing the other Alpha to understand that he’s asking him to guard Louis with his life, and visa versa for Harry with Zayn–seeming to agree, Liam nods curtly, then promptly starts ignoring him again, because he’s even angered Liam. Which _fan-fucking-tastic, call the priests, folks, I need an exorcism now, surely.)_

Shoulders weighed with pressure the Alpha follows Zayn out–the Omega is ahead, completely confident in his stride, tightly-bound rage surrounds his thin frame. And this makes Harry uncomfortable, because Zayn’s never been outright put out with him, not even when he’d brought up the _‘unspeakable Alpha number three’_ which tells him that he’s really fucked up.

Outside the brisk wind does nothing to lighten the tension within, the suffocating grip on his lungs–which is less than he deserves. Without warning his best-mate pivots and stops dead.

Cold, dark eyes regard him.

Feeling the inexplicable need to explain himself, but lacking the proper words, Harry tells the Omega, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Not helping his case is the flat, uncaring tone that comes with the words. _Way to show your remorse, Styles._

“What the Hell was that, H?”

“I don’t know.” Honest, he doesn’t, isn’t that _obvious?_

“Did you hear yourself in there? Do you even hear yourself now?”

“I’m not _deaf,”_ he retorts, holding eye-contact even as his skin prickles uneasily and his fingers tremble at his sides; agitation wells up inside him.

“I don’t think you do,” Zayn continues, like he’s not spoken, and the Alpha can feel his canines elongate, points become sharp, deadly. “But at least you’re not the _blind morons_ of the world, yeah?” _I’m only your average moron–nothing new there._

“I…didn’t mean that,” somehow the breath carries over the howling winds.

“And yet you think its okay, yeah? ‘Cause everything an Alpha does is _okay._ Everything _you_ do and say is _okay,_ ” Zayn’s always had the gift of sounding calm even when his eyes are raging, hazel-pools of lava.

“No…That’s not…I don’t…” the Alpha struggles to find the proper words, thoughts a jumbled mess. These thoughts tell the truth, and know that despite his outward appearance; practically everything that comes from his mouth is bullshit and completely unwarranted. Again: nothing new there.

“Realise somethin’, H. Realise that Louis probably hears shit like that _every day,_ from mostly _everyone._ Because by the Council’s guidelines a disabled Omega in this society is an absolute disgrace. But then again, you don’t really _care,_ d’you?” _I care. I’ll always care–I’ll always fight for him, protect him from whatever I must, from this society. But how am I supposed to protect him from myself?_

Without meaning to the Alpha bares his canines. “If I hear _anyone_ dare speak badly about him–vision and all, I will personally–,”

“Cut the shit,” Zayn dismisses him. “You don’t deserve to threaten anyone. You’re just like _them._ ” _In status, maybe._

“I care ‘bout him…” he disagrees, but it’s weak as Hell, doesn’t even matter. “I…I…” _shut the fuck up already,_ his Alpha growls to life, defensive and primed to fight. _Now’s not the fucking time._

Something flashes in the Omega’s eyes, and though Harry knows he’s not showing the bitter unhappiness, the self-hatred on his face (he’s been veiling his emotions, been smothering them since as long as he can really remember, because that’s what he’s been taught, the Alpha’s of Council are meant to be without emotional or moral bias…) the Omega’s known him since they were green lads, finding themselves, and probably knows that when he starts to disconnect, becomes detached, too much is actually going through his mind.

Dropping his head the Omega pulls out a baggie. Uninterested in whatever’s there, Harry tilts his head and stares up at the night sky.

“There was one time when…ah…when Ben saw some of my paintings, remember the ones I was going to…ah…send to that Uni?”

At this Harry’s head snaps up. Ben. Zayn _never_ talks about Ben. Never–and the Alpha knows this isn’t going to be a pleasant conversation already.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the Omega mutters, taking one hard, long hit from the joint between his fingers before, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t really _‘not feelin’ them anymore’_ like I told you. I loved them…like a lot. And uh well you know how Ben was…when he found out I was trying to leave early, _with you especially,_ he…ah…he said some shit about the art, ‘bout the way my hands shake sometimes. Said it ruined everything. A-And it wasn’t the first time any of the uh blokes told me shit like that. So, remember I stopped for a while, blamed it on the lack of motivation…?”

Exhaling, he passes the blunt, continuing between, “You need this,” and Harry accepts it numbly. “Yeah, shit like that…words…verbal abuse, whatever you wanna call it, fucks with your head more than anything else. And Lou…he’s smart, Haz, he can _go places!_ But when you’re constantly told you’re unable to do things right or unable to do things in general for whatever reason you…start to believe it yeah? And he’s already fragile. So are you…I just don’t wanna see _that_ happen to him. I realise you care, anyone with _eyes can see you adore him,_ and I know you didn’t mean it because you constantly spout shit you think will come out one way but comes out another and I know you _get_ what ‘m sayin’ because no matter how much you try to act like you’re fine, half the time you’re really _not_ and–,” _So not going there–_ it’s not true, really, and he’s not going to complain because that would be selfish and ridiculous because there is nothing _wrong._

 _Yeah, right, keep telling yourself that,_ the thought it numbing. Which is good, he thinks, better for him.

Another hard, long hit to get through this conversation. “I would never intentionally hurt him, Z, God, I know he’s _brilliant,_ and I wouldn’t even hesitate to…”

“I know,” the Omega murmurs, leanings against the wall beside him as Harry takes another drag, feeling his muscles undo the longer he holds it in his lungs. Passing it to the Omega again, he murmurs, “I have half the mind to track Ben down again and tear him apart. Maybe his hands will shake from fear. And maybe I’ll break every finger–I want too.”

“Don’t,” Zayn tells him. “He’s not worth the effort. I was only making a point.”

“I reckon he’d scream until his voice gave out next. And then he won’t be able to speak another vile word to another Omega.” _Because it’s sick, to treat an Omega, male or female, with such…such…_

In response the Omega snorts. “’S not a problem anymore, Haz. You’ve already worked your magic on him; he’s too afraid to even _think_ to open his mouth again.

“You’re right,” the Alpha agrees, smiling blandly at the memories. “Still an entertaining thought, yeah?”

“Worry ‘bout you sometimes, mate, I really do,” thick wisps of cloudy, white smoke exits his mouth as he speaks and Harry stares, transfixed as the cloud dissipates into the air, becomes one with the oxygen, no doubt under other circumstances the molecules would have bonded and then–wait, the Alpha thinks, _why am I even thinking into this?_

A while passes in comfortable silence as the Alpha and Omega pass the hand-rolled until it’s a bit more than a clip. And the high is a rush of relief as the tension completely leaves his body and he thinks (he’s so out of tune with his Alpha he can’t be sure) he’s ready to join the others again. Keeping Zayn ahead of him, one hand on his lower-back, Harry walks them back through the club and to the VIP lounge, suddenly anxious to see his Omega again, to _see_ that he’s okay, even though the buzz tells him the Omega is fine, _happy._

At the booth, the Alpha finds Niall is wrapped around Louis, almost protective–well that’s cute. And they’re laughing at something, Louis’s face in the slope of Niall’s throat. Quirking an eyebrow, Harry sits, amused as Louis immediately tears away from Niall and scrambles into his lap. Not anticipating this, Harry tenses a bit, but relaxes quickly because Louis’s a gentle, barely-there weight in his lap, and he’s facing him, face titled up so those blind eyes are looking (but not really looking) directly at his face.

“Hazza!” the boy giggles at him, all flushed cheeks and bright, huge, glassy, blue eyes. Obviously tipsy. Adorably tipsy.

Grinning warily, the Alpha holds his waist, one hand splayed possessively over the span of his belly. “Kitten, how much have you had to drink?”

“Dunno,” Louis sighs back, “Feels nice. Like this. Like _you._ More than this, I like you.”

“Only three shots and that champagne, two glasses I think. That’s it! But he took ‘em like a trooper, ‘m quite proud,” Niall declares fondly. In response, Louis shoots him one of those sweet smiles as he nods. “Yep…Tho’ it wasn’t quite as tasty as the otha’ stuff you gave me. You gave me the girly drink,” he accuses, bottom lip jutting attractively in a pout.

“Girly! I was drinkin’ that, too,” Harry scoffs, leaving out the fact that he has no intention of getting plastered, not on Louis’s first time.

“Don’t listen to him, Lou,” Zayn calls. “He _always_ drinks shit like that! He’s a little girl at heart.”

“Complete lies,” the Alpha dismisses his best-mate to nose at Louis’s cheek, whispering, “Ignore him. He’s only trying to tear us apart.”

“That’s not very nice, Zaynie,” Louis admonishes, shaking his finger in the complete opposite direction, at Niall instead, who stifles his giggles by taking another shot (where is all this alcohol coming from?)

“That’s ‘cause Zayn isn’t very nice at all, Lou,” Liam agrees, staring at Zayn still–it doesn’t go unnoticed that his puppy-eyes haven’t left the Omega since they’d returned. 

“Now _you’re_ not being very nice, Li,” Louis voices, frowning.

“Oh, dear God,” Josh mutters in disbelief, chugging at his beer. “This isn’t happening right now.”

“Niall is the only nice one here!” Niall decides loudly.

Louis nods, speaking to him at first, “I agree with this,” then to the Irish boy, “Niall, I agree!”

Hearing this, Harry smiles, shaking his head, and grinning wider at Niall’s response, “That’s ‘cause you’re the only one with brains round here, Lou.”

Louis blinks owlishly, then those eyes raise again as he whispers conspiratorially, “Is he teasin’ me, Hazza?”

“Hm,” the Alpha looks at Niall, doesn’t find any humour on his features, then back to Louis. “No, kitten, I think he’s serious. But I don’t agree with him at all. He’s not nice at all, lovely. You are nice.”

Louis shakes his head. “No. No. _You_ are nice.”

Those words remind the Alpha that he’s the exact opposite of _nice;_ and the remembrance of his earlier words threatens to taint his lighthearted mood. But he cannot fucking stand to harbor this guilt, can’t stand the idea that Louis is so oblivious to the words that would have no doubt hurt him otherwise.

Shutting his eyes, Harry murmurs tightly, “Lou…”

Seeming to pick up on his sudden atmosphere, the Omega squirms in his lap. “What’s wrong, Haz?”

“I said some not nice shit earlier, Lou,” he mutters. “Really I did. And I wanna…apologise.”

“Apologise?” he repeats slowly, blinking, then, “Whateva’ foooor?” the last word stretches and it’d be outrageously endearing, were the next tidal wave of guilt escapable.

“I…” he really fucking doesn’t want to repeat the words, but he owes Louis that much. “I…Christ, I called blind people morons.” There’s one beat of silence (to which Harry can’t even _breathe_ ) with the Omega stilling, eyebrows furrowed, then, “It’s okay, Hazza.” _What?_

“Christ, Lou, it’s really now, and I didn’t mean that, not at all, but it just–,”

“Hey, Haz? Hazzzza?”

Sighing in exasperation, the Alpha mutters, “Wait. Let me finish–,”

“Please don’t,” Louis mumbles mulishly, shifting to hide his face in Harry’s throat, breathing there softly. “’M havin’ such a lovely time, H. Please, don’t.”

Squeezing his eyes shut the Alpha realises now is certainly not the best time to even attempt to apologise and talk seriously, because Louis is quite literally a light-weight who’s had only three shots but is flushed and giggly and lovely. Under the influence, or whatever. So, he nods once. 

“Still think you’re the nicest,” the Omega breathes into his throat–the sensation sends bloodred desire through his veins, and straight to his cock, but Harry’s too lost in his hearts strange, acrobatic acts to notice or care that Louis can probably feel that.

“Hmm,” he hums idly, tightening his hold a bit, “’S that so?”

“Nope, I lied,” there’s a grin in his voice as he crawls out of his lap, plastering himself to Niall’s side and whispering (though it’s not quite a whisper because Harry can still _hear,_ and he’s willing to bet Josh and Liam can, too), “More liquor, Niiiiiiii.”

When the Alpha’s about to protest (because he doesn’t think any more alcohol is necessary) Niall cuts him short with a piercing glare, then calls Jen over and shoots through too many drinks to keep track of. “Of course,” the Irish boy coos when Jen’s left, “You drink up to your heart’s desire, Lou.”

“Heart’s desire?”

“Yes,” Niall nods surely.

“But…my hearts deeesiiiire is Harry. Do I have to drink _‘im_ up too?” he asks seriously, and Harry nearly chokes on the glass of whatever was left on the table ( _Vodka, perhaps, flavored._ )

“Yes, Louis,” the Irish instigator says around giggles. “You better drink him up fast too. He’s got a lot for you to drink.” _Jesus._

With an annoyed groan, the Alpha grabs Louis’s hand and tugs (with perhaps too much force). Unsuspecting the Omega tumbles forward with a small _‘oof’._

“Nonsense,” Harry chides to the Irish boy, who’s glaring. “It’s Niall who’s ordered the hoard of liquor.”

“You can drink that, too, I reckon!” Niall–bold as ever–challenges, holding his gaze.

“The more the better,” the Alpha retorts, aware that Josh watches them thoughtfully.

“Erm,” Louis mumbles, head bowed, “’M confused?”

“Don’t feel bad, love,” his voice softens impossibly–the way it only does for Louis–as his fingers tip the boys face again so those unfocused eyes are revealed. “Niall doesn’t make any sense.”

“He’s right, Louis,” Josh agrees–Harry’s never liked the other Alpha more. One of these day’s Harry decides he’ll have to get Josh something nice, the bloke deserves it just for keeping up with the Irish boy (deserves it for daring to do this for the _rest of his bloody life_ –because there’s no take-backs, once an Alpha’s bonded with their Omega…that’s it for them.) Yeah, the two of them _must be love._ “It’s a miracle you can make out the shit he talks at all.”

Speaking of–the two begin to bicker back and forth again–seemingly uncomfortable, Louis shifts his weight. Plastered to his side, the boy rests his head against Harry’s arm as he murmurs underneath the music (he’s listening so attentively that he even catches his sigh) “Why do they fight, Hazza?” 

“I reckon Niall’s to blame,” Harry tells him.

“’Cause it’s _always_ Niall’s fault, right?! Never the stupid, superior dickheaded Alpha’s of the world!” the Irish Omega shouts back–either Harry’s not very good at inside conversations or Niall’s extremely good at eavesdropping. Niall, he thinks again.

“Awe, Ni, no!” Louis calls, upset. “’S not true! Harry, tell him ‘s not true!”

“I say nothing,” Harry murmurs unfalteringly, even as Louis shoves at his arm. “Be nice!”

“I’m not nice,” he responds innocently as possible.

“Well you’d better be, or ‘m leavin’ this inst–,”

“You’re not going anywhere,” again he’s unfaltering, smirking at Zayn, who watches him, lifting one dark brow.

“Says who?” the Omega demands, petulantly crossing his arms.

“Me, who so happens to be blocking your exit, darling,” his voice remains steady over the pounding bass, his eyes boring into wide, unseeing electric ones.

When the boy’s mouth opens to say something cutting (he’s sure, as Louis’s tongue is very loose tonight, alcohol does that to you) but at the same moment two more waitresses appear with enough glasses and bottles to cover the entire table. Seeming to have forgotten the argument, Niall gushes happily, all over Josh even as he’s speaking to Louis, handing the boy one of the shots, filled with vodka (judging by the clear flat liquid).

“Wait! _Everyone_ needs to take a shot. To…hmm…You choose, Louis.”

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Louis blinks, lowering his blank gaze, mumbling, “Um, Haz, you choose.”

“ _Must_ we do this?”

“Nope,” Niall giggles, and takes the first swing. Sighing, the Alpha downs his, hardly noticing the burn, watching Louis who sputters, cobalt eyes sparkling with tears. “There, there,” the Irish boy tuts, “Embrace the sensations, babe, its best that way.”

“You’re honestly trying to get him plastered?” Zayn asks, downing a second shot like its water, then shaking his head.

“Of course! And _you,_ ” the Irish lad points at Harry (who glares, disapproving), “ _my friend,_ are going to thank me for this later.”

“Won’t have anyone to _thank,_ ” Harry grounds between clenched teeth, “If he wakes up ill tomorrow.”

“Hazza, don’t be so grumpy!” Louis mumbles, pleasantly drunk and oblivious to the significance in their conversation. The frown that graces his lips is somehow endearing. 

“Yeah, _Hazza,_ don’t be so grumpy,” Niall taunts cheerily, sipping at something pink, “’Ere, try this, Lou, it’s sweet.”

As the Omega’s pass the glass of pink alcohol back and forth, giggling (Harry can’t tell about what, there’s only words like _‘pink’_ and _‘pretty’_ and _‘sweet’)_ and the Alpha decides he doesn’t even want to know.

“Double?” Zayn asks him, grabbing a long, golden shot-glass, tipping it in question.

Glancing towards Louis and Niall, the Alpha takes the shot-glass warily. Clinking their glasses, the two down the shots in one go, grinning at each other as the burn lingers in their throats.  

“Aye, mate!” Josh calls, over the latest remix, “Fancy another drink?”

Grinning at the other, Harry barks, “One more.”

Except somehow one turns to ten and the liquor cascades through him–though he’s a bit more than buzzed now, it doesn’t hinder his vigilance, because he’s too keyed up, watching Louis laugh delightedly at whatever Niall and Josh are talking about. And he regrets not having monitored exactly how much liquor the boys gone through, but he reckons it’s more than enough as Louis takes another sip at the sparkly substance in another glass.

Giggling again, the boy nods, then seems to remember something, “Hazza!” he cries happily, practically tossing the glass onto the table (not even noticing it’s spilt over the marble) as he scrambles into Harry’s lap, legs spread so they’re face to face. To balance him as he’s swaying a bit, Harry splays one hand on his lower back, then catches his jaw in two fingers, gazing into the blues of his dilated irises. “Have ‘nother drink, Hazza!”

“Mmm, I think ‘m done for tonight, love,” he declines softly, even as the boy tilts his face, pouting.

“Pleeaseee,” he whines, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging. Inhaling sharply the Alpha almost groans at the sensations treading through his body, his cock growing dangerously, painfully hard in his trousers, straining against his zipper–wanting out, wanting inside his Omega’s perky, full arse. And crazily Harry imagines the Omega would welcome him so eagerly.

Anticipation coils inside him and all he can think is to get him home and in his bed and– _fuck, no._ Oblivious, Louis continues, upset, “Want you to have fun, too!” And the Alpha seriously considers grabbing another shot because he’s not nearly drunk enough to handle this.

 _But._ “One more, pleeaseee, pretty please, please,” Louis continues his little mantra. Jesus, he really shouldn’t, but fuck it, if he’s taking another so should the Omega. Ah, well, sharing’s caring, yeah?

Without much thought, Harry reaches around Louis’s body, snatching another double-shot of whatever-the-fuck, leaning down, tightening his grip on Louis’s jaw to keep him from squirming, Harry breathes, “You thirsty, kitten?”

Both confused and curious the Omega replies, “Yes?”

Without much care that this isn’t exactly appropriate, the Alpha takes the shot (it’s white wine, which _really?)_ then leans forwards, kissing Louis’s parted, shocked lips, pouring the liquid into his mouth. Against his cool mouth, Louis’s is warm and welcoming as he swallows automatically, breathing raggedly.

“More?” he whispers, spacing them an inch to find that Louis’s eyes are shut, eyelashes casting shadows again.

When Louis nods, the Alpha drinks more, leaning down to connect their mouths again; without any hesitance, the Omega takes the mouthful.  Smirking now, Harry murmurs, “Let’s not go any further as I know your capacity for alcohol is passed limitations, Louis.”

Louis bites his bottom lip, then drops his eyes. “You’re so funny, Hazza,” he giggles, leaning backwards so that Harry presses down on his lower back, arching him so he doesn’t meet the table. “So, so funnnny.” 

“Mm, how ‘bout nice?” he wonders. “Am I nice now, little one?”

“Always nice,” then he seems to remember that his fingers are still clutching his curls, as they flex, then tugs a bit more (like he knows what this does to Harry). “Ya know…you’ve got curly hair. I shall call you _Curly_ from now on.” _Not likely, Hazza is bad enough._

“Mmm. I hadn’t realised,” he murmurs solemnly, then, “Know what else ‘v got?”

With the little _v_ appearing between his brows, Louis shakes his head, perhaps a bit too quickly as he gasps, _“Whoa._ ”

Quirking an eyebrow the Alpha goes to ask when another piercing bass steals the entire building and Louis’s eyes widen. “Oh my God! What song’s this? Issonice!”

“I dunno, but we’re going to _dance!_ ” Niall practically hops around the booth to stand before them, grabbing Louis’s hands (practically tearing Harry’s hair out–Irish bastard) and yanking the boy up and out of the booth. Stumbling the Omega catches his balance on Niall’s shoulder, “Come dance with me, Lou!”

Excitedly, Louis actually starts to _drag Niall_ towards where the music is loudest, and this shocks Harry near sober again as his instincts come alive, feral and demanding. Wisely, the Irish boy stops, grinning at him like it’s _nothing,_ “Don’t freak! I won’t lose your precious, Louis!”

There’s no winning so Harry narrows his eyes and all-but growls, “No, you won’t, because if you do, you won’t live to see the rest of the night.” The threat isn’t exactly _accurate,_ as he wouldn’t hurt Niall (that’s almost impossible, and not because Josh would lose his shit, but more so because it’s Niall, an Omega, and Harry wouldn’t ever think to lay a hand on him–Josh, though, is a different matter entirely).

Then, much calmer Liam speaks, “Stay in our sights!”

“Or stay _here,_ ” Josh mutters, looking pissed as Harry feels–emitting sub-zero levels of hostility because there are too many Alphas in this God damned place (most of which are drunk, high, or fucking brainless).

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Piss off.”

And then they’re stumbling away–Niall, proving he _does_ have at least half a brain, has one arm wrapped around Louis’s waist, supporting his steps, guiding him right–and the Alpha watches, stares, _warns_ with his eyes until the crowd’s swallowed them. There is no helping it–he all but loses his mind. Because he can’t risk it, not now, not ever, nobody deserves to see Louis this way, giggling and flushed and outrageously _sexy_. That’s _his_ fucking privilege and _damn him_ if he doesn’t make that known.

Downing one more shot (whiskey, _thank fuck,_ he needs something strong) he catches Josh’s smirk, and Zayn’s quiet laughter before he storms away, in the direction of Louis, following the buzz. Ignoring those who are eyeing him hungrily, in seconds he’s where he needs to be, where Louis’s smiling, doing something silly with his hand that causes the Irish lad to double over in laughter. People are staring. And they’re both so unaware of their audience–but Harry _is_ aware of the resentful looks he’s given once he circles his Omega’s waist in one arm and breathing warningly, “You don’t leave my side without permission. Understood?”

From ahead, the Irish boy has that _‘oh-shit-this-is-serious’_ expression on his face, but Harry doesn’t really see him as he nuzzles Louis’s throat, hoping his scent will cling to the young boy. And though his Alpha’s voice resonates in his words, Louis doesn’t notice in his intoxication, giggling, “Haz! You came! Niall said you would, but I didn’t believe ‘im!” he leans his head back, onto Harry’s shoulder, relaxing as the Alpha begins to carry them to the beat, “I wanted you to come.” Tightening his hold, the Alpha keeps his body strictly away from Louis’s so he doesn’t ground his cock into the boy’s arse. But it’s not enough; he knows it’s not enough so he does what he must to keep his restraint.

Avoiding temptation, Harry turns Louis, holding him fast, then looking for signs of dislike on the young boys face, there’s nothing but excitement, nerves…and lust? No, something else, he thinks forcefully, even as his Alpha senses the Omega’s answering desire. _For what,_ Harry can’t be bothered to find out because he’s closing the space, bending to accommodate the height difference, so their faces are incredibly near. Wrong move: the proximity sparks _fire_ inside him.

One, small hand lands on his shoulder, holding as Harry smirks, and begins to move to the music, slow at first, unable to help that his hips meet the boy’s, who’s cheeks are coloured a delicious pink. It’s so fucking sexy–more than it should be. And he wants Louis to let go. For him. Wants the boy to know that’s okay–even though it isn’t for Harry’s mental-state, surely.

Moving lights twist and turn in time to the music, casting strange coloured light and shadows all over the bar and clientele. They’re alternately green, blue, white, and a demonic red. But the colours hardly matter. The atmosphere is _ablaze,_ like the rest of the dance floor is flames (but really, it’s probably _him)._ And the song’s picked up, but the Alpha moves the stumbling boy _slower,_ because he looks confused and dazed (still so eager as his fingers dig into Harry’s shoulders)

And the Alpha is staring, can’t tear his gaze away because then he’ll miss something beautiful. But the boy’s fringe veils his eye, and Harry raises one hand, stroking the silky strands out of the way. It’s so wrong–Louis is only sixteen, hardly allowed to be this drunk…But fuck it. Without permission, Harry flexes his hips again, one hand moving to the boy’s, demanding this time, and the Omega’s eyelashes flutter–were the music not so damned _loud_ the Alpha could have heard the lovely sound (moan, groan, sigh, _whatever)_ leave the boy’s parted lips.

Harry wants him. _Fuck_ does he want him. Leaning in, so their foreheads meet, he listens to Louis’s shallow breathing. Underneath all else there’s this flighty, nervous air to him. But those eyes still _bore into his, like he can see him, and_ God does Harry want him to _see_ _him_ , to have that look in his eyes.Every lone detail that Harry’s memorised is bright; those tiny, shards of ice in the deeper blue stand out beautifully. Growling, the Alpha grinds himself against the boy again, on fire with _need_ as Louis grasps his shirt in both hands. Even starving for him, Harry’s mouth brushes over Louis's gently, like the very first time. But it’s still desperate, hot.

Willing, pliant, the Omega kisses him back, telling him this is okay. He’s drunk, Harry thinks, fuck he _must be_ because his Omega would never have done this, too sweet, shy. Which the Alpha _adores._ But this sensation, the fire, this _kiss_ is getting Harry there, to that same drunken state, fucking cocky as he smirks into the kiss, gripping the boy’s hips now, pulling him flush against him. He tastes sweet like strawberries and liquor and _his._

Movement. So much movement. Even the kiss doesn’t end, their lips move and…unlike the other kisses, time doesn’t stand still for this one. No. Time rushes past them. It’s hot, passionate, _quick._ A hand’s made its way into Harry’s curls, pulling at them as the Alpha groans, thrilled. The moment their tongues meet: _fireworks,_ in front of his eyes. Out of control. No thoughts, no sight. Just lights everywhere.

Too soon it becomes _too much_ as Harry tears away from his mouth, only slightly guilty when his eyes find the boy’s swollen mouth. Without warning, Louis erupts in a fit of breathless giggles.

The crowd is extremely hot and the Alpha needs another drink, but he has to know first, “What’s so funny?”

“Dunno,” the boy shrugs, and Harry can tell it’s a lie, but Louis sways which makes him realise it’s best to continue this conversation with Louis seated.

“Come,” he murmurs fondly, showing the Omega away from the dance-floor in record time. Back at their table with Louis hopping beside him, whispering meaningless words into his shoulder the Alpha arches an eyebrow at Zayn, “Where’s the love-birds?”

The other Omega points his chin towards Harry’s left. Peering over his shoulder, Harry finds Niall and Josh creating their own scene on the dance-floor. Much, much more sexual–practically shagging on the dance floor, subtract the clothing and _viola,_ there’s the porn.

Jumping excitedly, clinging onto his arm, Louis smiles lovingly at him, “Aw! Are they dancin’ Hazza? THEY ARE, AREN’T THEY! They’re sooooo cute, Harry!”

“How was your dance, Lou?” Zayn asks, successful launching Louis towards him, stumbling very much, and into his lap, rambling through an overabundance of adjectives, “Lovely! Magical! Sp…” Trusting his best-mate with Louis, the Alpha strides over to the bar and returns minutes later with a bottle of water and a beer.

“So, you two best get out on that dance floor bef–,” he doesn’t finish because Louis scrambles to a stance and rushes over to him, burying his face in Harry’s shirt. “I thought you _left,”_ he snivels miserably, clinging to him as Harry questions Zayn with his eyes–the Omega only shrugs, looking helpless, and beside him Liam averts his eyes, almost…guiltily. _Now what is that about?_

“No, no, love,” he soothes, walking them ( _yes,_ Louis remains glued to him, so the steps are wayward and sketchy) to the table. “Just needed to get you something to drink.”

Jerkily, due to the lack thereof stability, the Alpha places the drinks on the table and brings his hands over Louis’s, prying them from his shirt, even when the boy raises his face, extremely fearful. Sighing, Harry speaks quietly, “C’mon, babe, ‘m not goin’ anywhere. Calm down.”

Still, the Omega doesn’t give, mumbling, “’M not leddin’ go.”

At a loss, the Alpha glances at Zayn, then Liam, but they’ve gotten lost in their own worlds, in each other. So, since Louis’s not letting go, then he’ll be damned if he does so. Instead, he starts to hum, swaying them left, then right until Louis’s giggling again, emotions changing and transforming so quickly that Harry’s steps to the composition in his head falter. It’s not ruined though; perhaps the key in Louis’s laugh can be added to the keys of the piano.

“Mm, tell me what’s got you so giggly tonight?”

Louis shakes his head, hiding his face in the Alpha’s chest as he continues the rhythm, ignoring the questioning, shocked looks of the bouncers, waitresses, waiters, guest, etcetera. “You.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” he decides, mouth hinting at another smile. “Quite the comedian, I am. But what’ve I done now?”

“’S gonna ruin the mo’,” Louis slurs in warning.

Seriously doubt that, Harry thinks, because simply holding the Omega is a moment, one of his favourites; nothing can possibly ruin that. Hell, it’ll be more memorable. Rather than explaining this, Harry murmurs, “I don’t mind.”

Sighing, the boy mumbles, “I…Mum…You can dance.” _Well…okay?_

Thrown, the Alpha agrees, “Yes. Yes, I can dance.” Because he’d been taught them all through early adolescence, but oddly enough learning many routines Harry can’t remember, the movements and steps are ingrained in his memory, that’s all. Except his Father had been the only one to show him the waltz; he recalls that, watching the older Alpha go through the motions enough times from eleven to twelve…And not because he’d liked dancing, but because the older Alpha had _wanted to show him,_ and he’d smiled a lot back then, before Mum…Not going there. Even blocking the thought, some emotion wells up inside him, not sadness…something…

“Mhm…Mum just always tells us, the girl’s too–‘sides Lotts, she thinks she’ll present Alpha–neva’ trust an Alpha that can dance.”

“Hmm,” he ponders this, doesn’t quite find a fitting enough explanation. “Why do you think that is?”

Louis shrugs–moving his head from side-to-side, “Reckon ‘s a Mum thing.”

“More likely than not,” he allows, then, “Come, you need to drink something.” _Sober you up a bit._

Seeming to have forgotten his previous fright Louis smiles timidly when Harry takes his hand and returns them–having to keep the other hand on the boy’s side, keeping him balanced–to the table, as they’d strayed. There the Alpha finds the table’s vacant with empty liquor bottles, an ashtray (where’d that come from?), someone’s lighter, and an iPhone. Grateful for the privacy, Harry ushers Louis inside first, though once he’s seated the Omega climbs into his lap, making himself that much smaller and then asking, hopefully, “More?”

Laughing at that, the Alpha shakes his head ruefully. “You’ve had quite enough for one night.”

But then the boy sighs, the sound so forlorn that Harry reaches across the booth to where Zayn had been sitting to grab the half-empty bottle of rum–having been sitting in a glass-dish of ice, it’s relatively chilled–and grabbing another glass to pour some. “Last one, then you’re done, otherwise you’re going to be the death of me. You really are.” Nonetheless, Harry takes the Omega’s hand and puts the glass in it, watching as his face lights up and he grins, lurching forward to kiss his jaw, “’S why you’re my favourite.” And too hear those words again the Alpha would tilt the world on its axis–though it’d be impossible as his world already _is_ tilted and upside down but…almost perfect still.

Because Louis is perfect–shy, hesitant, Louis is perfect, sharp-tongued, kittenish rage Louis is perfect, sad, sleepy Louis is perfect, and inebriated, giggly Louis is perfect. In his tilted, upside down world, Louis is perfect. And that’s enough for him.

∞∞∞

               

 

Blessedly, the Omega babysits his rum, prattling on and on around every sip, and at this point the Alpha can’t stop smiling. As the other’s are still missing, and Louis is seated cross-legged on the table (who know how that happened anyway?) the attention remains on him and selfishly Harry hopes it remains this way. Because his attention is always trained on Louis–even now as he slurs his way through his story, when he tried to sneak out with Niall but bumped into a vase and gotten grounded for _“so many weeeeeeks, Hazza. So, so many.”_ All the while the Alpha laughs, imagining thirteen year old Louis, rebellious Louis, influenced easily by Ireland’s schemes.

“Naughty kitten,” he teases, tapping the boy’s nose.

Sighing the Omega shakes his head, looking outrageously pensive, “No, Harry. ‘M the _good_ one. You told me so.”

Grinning lopsidedly, Harry agrees, then adds, “But I wasn’t aware of your rebellious past.”

Louis giggles at this, sipping the last of the rum before speaking again, “No. No ‘m only good for you. Doesn’t count othawise.”

“I think that’s excellent, baby,” he says quietly. “Be a good boy for me, nobody else.”

With his fringe a mess in his face, Louis grins, leaning forward to rub his nose against Harry’s. “I wanna ‘nother drink. Am I still good if I wanna ‘nother?”

“Mm, yes, you’re still good. But only when I’m with you. And not so much liquor again. Do not drink so much ever again, Louis.”

Surprisingly, the boy breathes, “’Kay.”

Satisfied, the Alpha nuzzles his neck, brushing his lips over the smooth, tempting skin. “Good boy.”

Arching his throat a bit Louis sighs, breathing coming quicker. “’S it always like this?”

“Like what?” he pauses to distance them enough that he can see his expression; the little _v_ has formed between his brows and his mouth his curved down in a frown.

“You know…Hot, and achy and stuff.”

“What, drinking? Dancing?” Somehow the Alpha doesn’t think Louis’s talking about drinking or dancing. That he’s right doesn’t help anything.

“No…desire,” it’s a breathy, nervous whisper as the Omega bites down on his bottom lip, the words bringing more luscious colour to his cheeks.

“Why do you want to know?” his voice somehow manages to sound deeper, husky.

“’Cause I was hot before. Achy. When we danced. A-And always when you touch me. Or kiss me. I…I like it. I like that feeling. I want…I want more.” 

Those words threaten fucking obliterate and destroy and leave his self-restrain in unfixable pieces. Clearing his throat, the Alpha realises Louis is waiting on him to respond. “What do you mean, Lou?”

Somehow the boy’s unseeing gaze meets his. Lustful–a look Harry’s not seen there before and one he’d never thought to hope to see. “You know ‘xactly what I mean,” he mumbles, voice high, quivering. Although very much intoxicated, he’s still anxious. Not fully aware of what he’s doing, but aware enough to know he’s being such a suggestive little tease. And this is what alcohol does; Harry decides bitterly, makes people speak without meaning.

Even so it takes every ounce of strength to not have the boy there and then until he has him begging. “I think you’re drunk, kitten,” Harry manages to mutter, but the words are weak because _fuck he wants this._ Wants it more than this sorry excuse for oxygen–but Louis isn’t ready, Hell, _he’s_ not even ready _._

“Even when I think of you,” the Omega continues, voice breathy, so fucking sexy. Not helping anything, Harry’s gaze darkens. In his own state, the Alpha wants to push the boy to his knees and puts those lips to proper use…God, he can’t. Not now. Not like this. Probably not ever. “Is that normal? That sometimes I get hot ‘nd achy…when I think ‘bout you?” Louis continues ponderously, somehow managing to be adorable and sexy at the same time.

“I…I…” for the first time ever, Harry is _stuttering,_ absolutely screwed, unable to comprehend how this sixteen year old Omega can break him down this way. And that fucking look in those blue eyes makes Harry blurt, “I’m always thinkin’ ‘bout you, Lou. Fuck, I’m always fucking hard for you, always. Jesus I–,” but he’s interrupted by a young boy pouncing him. Wet, inexperienced lips attach themselves to his (scarily accurate) and Harry jerks back in surprise.

Suddenly everything…is not under control.

Growling, the Alpha places his hands on Louis’s hip and pulls him down from the table, until he’s a soft, warm weight on his legs. But it’s not nearly close enough to where he needs to be, but the Omega seems to think so too, as he’s pressed closer to the bulge in his trousers, foolishly spreading his legs for him too. God, the boy _does want him,_ there’s evidence, and his Alpha’s going wild with the knowledge. But Louis doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing–it’s the alcohol.

Doesn’t stop him–nothing can, because Louis’s mouthing at him again, stealing his thoughts, his clarity. Only concentrated on the feel of Louis’s soft, willing mouth. Clumsily the Omega tangles his hands in Harry’s curls, pulling at the soft tuffs–at this Harry groans low in his throat, flexing his hips and jostling the boy a bit.

 _Fuck,_ Harry wishes he were in control. He can’t ruin this. But this _boy._ This one fucking Omega _destroys him–_ gives his Alpha control, but cages the animal all the same. Rough and forceful his hands go to work, one sneaking underneath the thin, white top, onto the boy’s belly, feeling the soft expanse, as the other hand bears down on his lower back, arching him perfectly against him.

Growling again, the Alpha tears his mouth away to latch his mouth to the boy’s throat, too close to their bonding-spot sucking, tasting, _devouring._ Testing, Harry nips at his skin, loving the way Louis whines, hips bucking as his hands leave his curls to rake down his throat, over his chest, over his piercing nipples, sending bursts of pleasure through him. _Fuck,_ something rational comes to when his mouth starts, sucking desperately, marking him and he doesn’t _want to think,_ but… 

Pained, he stops, ignoring Louis’s whine of protest to stare at the skin he’d been attending too, red, bruising against his otherwise innocent, tanned skin.

“Please, no…don’t stop,” the Omega whispers, panting, baring his throat more. “Please. Want this–make me _burn_ too.”

 _Fucking…fuck._ Swallowing the Alpha squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think passed the blooming scent of Louis, to think passed the begging, to… _think._ “No, baby,” he croaks, hating the words, wanting to take them back immediately. “We’re…not going there tonight. Not tonight.” _God, I want to fuck you, bend you over this table, take you so sweetly, let my knot take care of you._

Soundless, the Omega crawls out of his lap, and when his touch leaves the Alpha thinks he’s bleeding inside. But the boy simply brings his legs to his chest and rests his head on his knees.

“I…” he tries, but thinks if he remains this close to him, his resolve will deteriorate, and then he really will _fuck him tonight._ “I’m going to get Niall. Will you stay here?”

_Silence._

“Lou?” he asks. Nothing.

“I need to know you’re not going to try and leave.” This silent-treatment reminds him too much of his Father. And the Alpha doesn’t _ever_ want to associate that bastard with Louis. But here it is, the silence, reminding him how shit he is inside.

Unwarranted, his temper spikes. “God, damn it, Louis _answer me._ ”

Revealing cold, ice-blue eyes, the Omega answers in that quiet voice, “’M not going anywhere.”

Realisation settles over him in the worst possible way–he’s hurt him trying to _protect_ him. Something crumbles in him. And he almost gives in, almost slings the boy over his shoulder, carries him out, into his car, where’d he’d no doubt…Not happening, he thinks, disgusted with himself.

“Stay,” he mutters, then promptly tracks Niall down (finding him still on the dance floor with Josh) and tells him to see too Louis because he sure as Hell _can’t._ When the Irish boy demands to know _“what the fuck did you do?_ ” the Alpha simply repeats himself, watching the Irish lad stalk away, to the table. Then, with his head ducked, hands trembling, thoughts _everywhere_ and _nowhere,_ the Alpha returns outside to light up whatever is left of Zayn’s weed.

**∞∞∞**

Turns out Liam and Zayn disappeared outside, to the back, where Harry ends up catching the two snogging and almost kills someone. When the two have finished their shit excuses, and Harry’s blown each of them off with murderous glares, then relentless teasing, Zayn and Harry light up again. And like some magic-warlock or something equally as influential, his best-mate gets Liam to take _three_ hits.

When the joint is nothing but a roach there isn’t one light-weight they’re taking home tonight–or this morning as it’s two A.M.–but _two,_ as Liam seems to have been virgin to smoking weed and is now zoned-out and spacey, staring at Zayn. There’s a while that the three converse back and forth about deep, philosophical shit until Harry realises the time and decides it’s time to head out. Sending his best-mate in first, to rally the others, the Alpha makes sure, once he’s gotten a drunken text from Zayn ‘ _wre out23side naw’_ that everyone is ready, then drags Liam inside, agreeing to what the other Alpha rambles on about ( _“Zayn’s so fuckin’ gorgeous”)_ and blah blah blah, making the male drink an entire bottle of water, then paying the tab (which he doesn’t know the exact amount and probably leaves more pounds than necessary) before leaving.

Beside Liam, Harry strides out of the club, following the buzz to the right, where the queue remains long as it was hours ago.

There, Louis and Niall stand arm-in-arm, in the middle of an entire group of people who listen to Niall’s insistent chatter on the perks of being mated. Josh and Zayn are on the outskirts, leaning against a post in quiet conversation, seemingly amused as they throw Louis and Niall looks. But when he redirects his focus on Louis, he notices one particularly idiotic Alpha from the group surrounding them, staring pointedly. At them both. And not just their faces, but their bodies–Louis’s body.

Dark, possessive instinct drenches him as Harry growls under his breath and stalks forward, over to the boy’s. In mere seconds he’s shoved through the throng, throwing murderous glares at those blocking his path and then grabs Louis’s arm, tugging him from Niall and against his body; in those seconds the boy looks stunned but then seems to realise it’s him as his face lights up, all effervescent and incandescent. But the Alpha can’t seem to grasp anything other than the fact that they’ve not bonded, they’ve not mated, and to the outside world his pretty Omega doesn’t belong to anyone.

And the knowledge flashes through him again and again and again until the Alpha’s cradling Louis’s face in both hands and possessing his sweet mouth, savoring his answering gasp. Claiming his mouth hungrily Harry runs one hand down the soft of Louis’s belly, his hip, over his thigh, holding him fast as Louis’s fingers twist hard in his hair, always so eager. Jesus, his body, his soul, this boy is _his._

“You. Are. Mine.” With the claim his canines lock lightly on the Omega’s bottom lip, emphasizing the words as Harry retreats, staking his already made assertion by drawing Louis into his side, watching the boy’s dazed expression. Abruptly Louis’s eyelashes flutter and those electric-blues are glaring, and he’s stumbling from Harry’s grasp before the Alpha even realises his intentions, Louis crosses his arms, “Hazza, you _left me._ ”

“Mmm,” the Alpha acknowledges, drinking him in, “But I came back.”

Louis seems to consider this, and then beams, “You did. And you kissed me. Like that.” Then the Omega’s stepped in front of him on his tip toes, “Again. Kiss me like that ‘gain, Haz.” 

“Nope,” he grins, grabbing the Omega beneath his thighs, ignoring his giggles and protests to break them free of the crowd, the curious looks there. “Now what’s the fun in doin’ what you’re told?”

Flailing his legs the Omega shakes his head, “’Arry Edward Styles! Lemme go!” _Never._

“Reckon I’ll have to hold you closer now, yeah?”

Mischief comes over the boy’s ethereal features. “Keep holdin’ me, Hazza,” he breathes, eyes peeking up from thick lashes, giving him that pretty look he must know Harry loves. “Hold me closer.”

Grudgingly the Alpha sighs, “You’re not supposed to find loop holes!”

“I win!” the boy cries delightedly, and this time when he squirms the Alpha, by suggestion, must let him go. And he does so, but doesn’t let the comment go by, “No.”

Mouth pouty, the Omega stomps his foot, “Yes!”

Amused, the Alpha replies, “Not at all, my lovely. This isn’t over.”

“Take me home, Styles!” Niall appears, sonorous as Josh holds him fast round the waist, looking amused. “I am _tired._ And deserve some beauty sleep, dealing with _him_ for an hour.”

“Let’s remember you’re the one that caused this,” Zayn voices now, waving at Louis from underneath Liam’s arm.

“Shut up!” the Irish boy hisses, starting away, towards the lot with Josh grinning and mouthing, _“sexually frustrated!”_

When Liam and Zayn follow, Louis starts away too, pausing when the Alpha doesn’t follow, caught up in admiring the view of his perky arse in those trousers. Either he’s burning them or Louis will be wearing them more often, he can’t decide because Louis shivers, calling, “C’mon, Harry! Wanna go _home!_ ”

Shrugging out of his blazer Harry makes it over to Louis is five, large steps, draping him in the blazer and then, once the Omega’s managed to get his hands through the sleeves (pushing the paws up a bit to reveal his hands) he intertwines their fingers. With the others almost far enough that they’re no long visible–though Harry can certainly hear them, shouting, messing about foolishly–the two stroll with their hands swinging between them back and forth. And when the Alpha glances down at Louis, he’s grinning up at him, so radiant the Alpha thinks his heart skips or something. _Gorgeous boy._

“Whatever you’re high on, I’d like some, little one,” he murmurs (from up ahead Josh begins to laugh boomingly).

Still grinning, the Omega shrugs one shouldered, “’M high on you, Hazza.” 

“Really?” though completely untrue, joking even, the thought pleases him greatly. “Well you certainly look intoxicated.” And then, halting them the Alpha draws the boy close, kissing him fast, hard, prepared to taste the sweet surprise on his tongue when, _“_ DON’T YOU EVEN TRY IT! MOVE YOUR ARSE’S!” An Irish shriek. An annoying, obnoxious Irish shriek.

Snickering, Louis stumbles some more steps forward, continuing, but the Alpha shoots the others the finger, and brings Louis back to him, planting another bruising kiss to his mouth, once, twice, a third time when Louis raises one hands to brush a stray curl from his right eyes, mumbling, “C’mon, Haz! ‘Fore Ireland plots our deaths!”

Perhaps the alcohol’s gone to his head, because, “To die fighting for you would be an honour.”

“Sappy, Styles,” the boy mumbles, laughing airily, swaying a bit before taking Harry with him. From there the Alpha steers him straight, in the right direction, “Love sappy Styles.”

 _Love,_ the Alpha thinks incredulously. _Love._

“Yes, love!” Louis giggles as Harry realises he’s spoken out loud.

“Love?” he repeats again, maneuvering Louis left, into the lot, grinning as he waggles his eyebrows.

“Must I spell it out to you? L-O-V-E, love! Sheesh, love sappy Styles, no’ daft Styles.”

Mock outraged, the Alpha brings one hand to his heart and starts in, “You wound me! I thought you’d love every Styles. Favoritism.”

Fighting another smile the Omega shakes his head, “Mhm, my favourite Alpha, thas who you are.”

“The only Alpha,” Harry reminds, and then they’re reached the car, where the others wait impatiently.

“Who the Hell is _driving?_ ” Josh demands, obviously concerned as to how they’re supposed to get back to the penthouse.

At that Harry raises two fingers. “’M sober enough to drive. Well more than the lot of you drunkards.”

Louis frowns. “Haz, no. Whatta ‘bout Liiii?”

“Liiii is _gone,_ Lou,” Liam says, chuckling at his own joke, and Louis looks confused. Poor boy.

“Walk in a straight line then, Mr. Sober,” Niall hisses–his irritability amuses Harry like nothing else.

Still, the Alpha glares at him. “What the Hell? I couldn’t even do that completely _sober!_ ”

“Christ’s sakes,” Josh growls, opening the rear-door, pinning Ireland with a glare that shouts _‘not-the-time-to-test-me’, “_ Enough. Get in, Niall.”

Sighing, like it’s an entirely unreasonable demand, the Omega does so, and Josh follows then Liam and Zayn. Opening the passenger side, the Alpha helps Louis in, who says, “Please, tell me you’re not drivin’.” _Like he’s so wasted or summat._

A bit miffed by this, Harry grabs both of Louis’s hands in his own, speaking quietly, “Lou, ‘m okay. I promise.”

“But…”

“Trust me,” he breathes, then stupidly at the Omega’s crushed expression. “Trust me, and when we get in we can do whatever you want.”

“Anything?” he asks, and then he’s hugging himself, grinning. Unable to help but grin back the Alpha makes quick work of buckling Louis, just-barely keeping his hands (and mouth) to himself, conscious of their audience. Rounding to the driver’s side, Harry shakes out his hair, then swipes it back into place, opening the door, buckling and starting the engine.

“You drive like it’s your Omega’s life on the line, Styles,” Josh murmurs coolly, like Louis actually _isn’t_ there. Unfazed, the Alpha rolls his eyes, puts them in reverse and pulls out smoothly.

“I’m fine,” he mutters dismissively, lowering the windows, allowing the cool, fresh air to cleanse the humid atmosphere. “Unlike _some,_ I can hold my liquor.”

When the Irish lad mimics him, using a horrible, nasally voice, the Alpha makes a disgusted face, turns up the music to drown them all out ( _especially Liam,_ who’s rambling on and on to Zayn about God knows what). And through the drive Harry hopes Louis will fall asleep, but the boy is wide-awake, drunk, and excited as he hums along (off-key) to every song.

Soon, they’re only minutes away (flawless driving, honestly, they don’t give him enough credit) and Harry risks a glance at Louis, almost runs a red, staring at him, with his hair in such a wind-blown mess, eyes shut, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. Then they’re back. A frisson of anticipation runs through his body as Harry cuts the engine, and he doesn’t even hear the other’s grumble ( or remember they’re there at all) because he’s at Louis’s side in seconds, though he’s unneeded as the Omega slides to his feet, then sways a bit.

“Dizzy,” Louis explains when Harry grabs his side to steady him.

In response Ireland says something soothing, but it goes right by the Alpha unnoticed. Heart drumming wildly in his chest the Alpha grabs his waist and lifts him so he stands on the car’s side-step again, then he turns and says, “C’mon love, hop on.”

Mystified the Omega asks, “What’re you doin’?”

“I am giving you a piggy back ride,” Harry declares, smirking. “Climb, little one.” When the Omega doesn’t move, looking unsure and hesitant, the Alpha sighs, and shifts so that when he reaches for him it’s simple to sling him, light as he is, onto his back with hardly effort on Louis’s part (besides when he’s in place, clamping his legs and arms tightly, clinging to him). “Feels high up,” he slurs a bit, resting his cheek on Harry’s shoulder, sighing, “What’s it like to be tall as you?”

Chuckling, the Alpha starts towards the penthouse, answering, “Not that tall, love. You’re tiny, is all.”

Jutting his bottom lip sulkily, Louis shakes his head, then brings back one of his hands to sooth back the curls that have fallen in his face. Somehow the innocent touch makes Harry extremely happy. Then those blessed fingers are gentle, tracing and outlining Harry’s features. “You’re quite beautiful, Hazza.”

Even grimacing the Alpha manages to chuckle, “Aren’t I?”

“Don’t joke,” Louis says, oddly serious, some sort of recognition in his tone, “I mean it. You’re…beautiful. Outside…and inside. You’re beautiful inside, too.”

Uncomfortable, the Alpha remains quiet, which _wrong decision._ “Niiii! Isn’t Hazza-Bear _beautiful!?_ He’s soooo beautiful!”

From ahead of them, Niall turns and sticks out his tongue at them. “YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL, Lou! Hazza’s got a frog-face!”

Louis grumbles, “Hazza is _beautiful,_ wanker!” Without responding the Irish boy continues, stumbling and giggling at whatever Josh whispers into his ear next. And the Alpha wants to say something clever but he’s at an odd loss.

There’s a moment of silence, then the boy whispers into his ear, “I know what I want. You said anything. And I know what I want…”

“Mmm,” he answers curiously. “And what’s that?”

More steps, closing in on the group just ahead of them.

“More,” Louis breathes, blue eyes swimming with emotion. “More than first base.”

Steps nearly faltering, the Alpha manages to get to the front doors, unlocking one of them (with only a bit of struggling) before kicking off his boots and padding down the hall towards the stairwell. “To our room!” Louis commands, giggling before calling to the others, “G’niiight, babesss!”

Of course everyone responds, fond and affection from each of them–they’re the best mates Louis could have, couldn’t ask for better. In a rush the Alpha doesn’t notice that Louis’s started to descend from his body until the loss of weight brings him to a sudden halt as Louis meets the ground, stumbling. Impulsively the Alpha whips around to clasp his wrist in one hand, holding him vertical even as the Omega giggles again, the sound mellifluous, “C’mon, Haz, c’mon!”

Leaning against the halls right wall, casually crossing his arms, with his humour restored, the Alpha asks, “So, more than just first base?”

“Now!”

“With pleasure, kitten,” without permission Harry pulls the boy. More than willing, Louis throws his arms around Harry’s neck, practically dragging _him_ backwards. Fumbling to show the entrance out of the way, the Alpha finally manages, then they’re inside and he’s kicking the door shut behind them. It’s pitch-black, with only the pale moonlight streaming through the curtains, but there’s no view because then Louis’s back-down on the mattress with Harry braced above him.

Grinning up at him, Louis sighs, squirming, “You smell…like…Mm, whis _kay._ ”

With a playful growl the Alpha speaks languidly, “Do I? Well you smell like mine, kitten.”

“Maybe that’s ‘cause my Alpha throws his clothin’ into _my_ suitcase so…” the words trial as the Alpha noses at Louis’s cheek, humming in agreement while the Omega struggles to finish, “’m con…constantly in h-his…clothes.”

“Sounds like a brilliant Alpha to me.” Then the Alpha decides he _likes_ teasing Louis, likes the way his body squirms underneath his, like his mouth on Louis’s skin. _Loves it even._

“S-Sometimes,” Louis mumbles, twinning Harry’s hair around his fingers, “Otha’s not so much.”

“Like when?” he pauses to breathe against his jaw, nearing the bruising love-bite.

“Like when you…you kiss me like _earlier_ ‘c-cause you think otha’ Alpha’s want me.” _Not think, know._

Above Louis, the Alpha stills, growling into his skin, inhaling his own scent over the Omega’s floral one, “They look too interested.”

“You always think that,” Louis breathes back, wriggling again, almost against him. Almost. As to make sure that doesn’t happen, Harry pins his hips to the mattress with one hand.

“Because it’s _true._ You’re so naive, love. Oblivious to your million or so appeals.”

Louis quiets and when Harry thinks the boy’s not going to respond, he sighs, “Sucks to be ‘em then. ‘Cause only you make me like this.”

Warmth settles over the Alpha and triumph flares within him. “You want me, no one else?” he wants to hear those exact words, craves them as his finger’s tighten and drag over the boy’s thigh, spreading them (only a bit…it’s not going anywhere). Or so he convinces himself even as Louis inhales sharply, licking his lips, “No one else,” is his next breath, “Now will you gimme what I want?” _More…_

“Later,” the Alpha tells him quietly, averting his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the look of disappointment on the Omega’s face. “First you need to change.”

And he kneels at the end of the bed, yanking Louis down enough so that he’s able to remove the boy’s shoes, then he stands up, about to turn round so the boy could change out of those trousers ( _shame_ ) when the Omega sits up, eyes cast-down, “Hazza?” he asks, equally as quiet. “Why don’t you want me?”

Shocked, even disturbed, the Alpha freezes, ready to deny this because _what a fucking joke,_ anyone can see how much he wants this Omega…except the Omega himself.

“I know ‘m not like…I know I don’t know what ‘m doin’…But ‘m tryin’…Truly I am. And I just…I want you to want me, too,” those eyes raise then, the little _v_ between his brows, irises glassy with either tears or perhaps it’s the liquor, then he smiles ruefully. “’M I makin’ much sense? Feels like ‘m not…Oh well. I wanna dance!”

The abrupt twist and turn of events and emotions makes the Alpha’s head ache.

“Dance! Dance! Dance!” Louis giggles, scrambling to his feet, and twirling, “Haaaaz, come! Come dance with me.”

With a minute-smile, at least it might be a smile (maybe a frown) the Alpha takes Louis’s hands, slips them around his neck, leaning a bit so Louis doesn’t have to stretch. “Dance?” the Omega whispers.

And the Alpha hooks an arm around Louis’s waist, “Slow dance.”

“Why?”

“Because I like slow dancin’.”

“’Kay,” Louis pauses, “But wait! Whatta ‘bout music?” Considering this, the Alpha begins to hum his tune, moving to its beat.

“What songs this?”

“Dunno. ‘S gonna be a composition. Whenever I manage to write it down.”

“Hmm. I like this. It’s quite…composition-ish.”

At his word choice the Alpha laughs, “Is it? How ‘bout now?” Then, to entertain the other, Harry begins to opera-sing it. Not one of his finest moments but.

Erupting in a fit of giggles, Louis sways quite gracefully, despite his balance situation. “Oh my God, Hazza! How weird are you, ‘xactly?”

“’M not weird! Just a bit…mentally challenged,” he replies solemnly, earning another giggle that leaves him all-but glowing with pride.

But when the boy sighs again, it’s sad, as they step in time to the beat. “Just…I…” his words trail as Harry waits for him to continue. “Like you lots, Hazza. You’re so perfect. But not me, ‘nd that makes me sad.”

“What makes you say that?” he asks quietly, as to hide the bloodred rage tinting his eyesight.

Louis sighs, “’S obvious. Everything…Everythin’ is _wrong._ With me…it’s wrong. I know it, society knows it, _he_ knew it, probably still knows it…”

And the Alpha opens his mouth to argue, to say _fuck_ society, but the catches something. “Who is he? Louis, who the fuck said that?”

Against him, the boy flinches, then raises his face. “Shut me up, Haz,” he pleads, slightly panicked. “Please, make it go away…”

Voice hoarse, the Alpha mutters, “It’d be my pleasure.”

A frown graces the boy’s mouth. “Whatta ya–?” But the Omega doesn’t finish because Harry’s mouth moves against his, and almost desperately the boy kisses him back, sighing into his mouth, warm and comfortable as Harry tenses over him, drowning in the moment. Too soon, before his mind gets too clouded, the Alpha pulls back, closes his eyes and relishes in the feel of him so very close. So warm, soft…to be valued and cared for and–

“I think that shut you up quite nicely, didn’t it?” Harry observes easily.

“Funny,” Louis breathes, grinning.

“No, not really,” the Alpha disagrees. Again the thought crosses his mind and his smile fades. “Will you tell me who _‘he’_ is?”

Shaking his head, the Omega shoves weakly against him, so that Harry retreats a bit, watching as Louis says, with more force than before, “No.” Then, starting towards the bed, with a sweet smile, “Later.”

“That’s not fair,” he mutters, carrying one, shaky hand through his curls. “That’s different.” 

“That’s different,” the Omega mimics, voice not at all similar to his, but endearing all the same as Louis cuddles into the mass of blankets, giggling there. “’S all the same. I won’t give until I get, Hazza.”

“You’re drunk, Lou,” exhaustion leaks from his voice, frustration into his body. “You…”

“’M sleepy, is what I am.”

Drawing one, calming breath the Alpha nods, “Lemme get some water and paracetamol for tomorrow.” Mechanically, he leaves the room, goes into the kitchen and braces his hands on the counterpane; breathing in the clean, scentless air, trying to calm his body–imbalance doesn’t work well with him. But fuck there’s no fixing this…no, he just needs to deal with it.

Grabbing the bottle of water from the fridge, then two tablets from the medicine-cabinet, Harry finds Louis’s in the bathroom. The sinks running and vaguely the Alpha considers going in to watch him and make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. But he needs these minutes alone, and doesn’t invade the boy’s privacy, waiting–it’s not even minutes later that Louis eases the bathroom door open.

By now the strength of his reaction to his Omega shouldn’t shock him; the force of it does. Because the Omega is standing there, clothing…Jesus somehow he’s ended up in one of Harry’s white Hanes, but those trousers… _Christ,_ those trousers are nowhere to be seen, instead Louis’s covered in these laced, black underwear, _panties._ The black contracts beautifully against Louis’s skin in the moonlight, making him appear to glow. And the Alpha opens his mouth to speak…but there aren’t words.

Silent, Louis toys with the hem of Harry’s shirt, but raises his face and grins slowly…wickedly. Instantly his muscles tense, his blood heats and roars in his ears, his Alpha…his need. _He’s made for me–mine._

“Please,” the boy pleads again, then seems to misinterpret his answering silence for rejection. “’M sorry…I…sorry. Shouldn’t ‘ave…” And then he’s turned round–the sight proves the Alpha’s undoing. Need rages through him viscously, mercilessly. The elegant line of his back. The two indentations above his full, lace-clad arse. The graceful length of him.

“Come ‘ere,” it isn’t his voice; it’s _the_ voice, as Harry stares, sitting on the mattress and spreading his legs in welcome. “Now.”

Practically squealing in childish enrapture Louis skips ineptly into Harry, knocking the Alpha flat. Unable to help himself, the Alpha lets out a boyish laugh, filled with admiration, but his main focus is on those panties. More so on getting the boy _out of the scanty black-lace;_ staining his perky arse with pink handprints as punishment for disobeying him, for tempting him this way.

Mindlessly the Alpha sits up, bringing Louis to his feet as his burning hands grip his arse tight, squeezing the perky, lace-covered flesh. A tiny, surprised yelp gets lost in Harry’s mouth as the Alpha lurches forward, forcing Louis’s petal-soft lips to meet his own, seeking ones. Hard and unyielding, Harry thrusts his tongue past the boy’s lips, tasting, demanding.

And he dominates. He masters. He _owns._

Unbelievably fervent, Louis throws his arms around Harry’s neck, entangling his fingers in the Alpha’s curls, tugging in attempts to bring them closer. When the boy mewls in rapture– _so fucking good for him–_ the Alpha gentles his hold, softening the kiss, allowing the Omega to learn and savor. In seconds Louis’s melted, crawling into his lap, meeting his tongue with soft, hesitant strokes.

“Yeah,” he rasps, fingers digging into his luscious arse, cock throbbing. “Like that.” And he sounds amazed.

But Louis _feels_ silky, and warm, and _amazing,_ meeting his tongue again, coalescing the fire between them–just like that the kiss spins out of control. Urgency overshadows the Alpha’s desire to savor–this is the most aroused he’s been in his entire life–as his knot thickens at the base of his cock, the pain of _nothing at all,_ no pressure, no friction, no _Louis,_ makes him dizzy. Before he realises what’s happening his canines are locking on the boy’s swollen bottom lip, then moving onto his jaw, and his slender throat, sucking and biting and _branding_ the Omega with his mouth.

When the bloody shirt hinders his path, with one hand the Alpha manages to discard the bloody thing and then continues over Louis’s sharp, bared shoulder.

Relentless, the Omega is moving in his lap, wriggling, bouncing a bit; little whines escape his mouth from the back of his throat. Beneath the blazing flames the Alpha realises what Louis’s trying to do, and almost grins at his inexperienced attempts. But then he realises this needs to stop because Louis doesn’t deserve this. Doesn’t deserve to experience pleasures first flames when _wasted._ Doesn’t deserve to not remember the mind-blowing sensations the way Harry surely will. Growling into his mouth the Alpha sets the pliant boy mere inches away, ending the sweet, hot undulations.

“Enough,” he whispers, impatient fingers stroking his gorgeous arse, toying with the garment’s edge, basking in the Omega’s shudder as he shifts him onto the mattress next.

“But…” he whimpers, cheeks flushed, tilting his head back. “I need.”

“And you shall have,” the Alpha promises, shifting onto his side to angle the boy’s face with two digits. “If you still want more when you’re sober, I promise, I will give it to you.” _I’d give you anything–my cock, my knot, my pups, my bloody heart…_ Christ, those thoughts consume him as one hand finds the soft of Louis’s belly.

“B-But what if you don’t w-want _me_ when we’re sober?” The ice-cold fear collides with desires raging fire–in disbelief Harry shakes his head.

“’Course I’ll want you, silly boy. I told you, I always want you.” It’s so fucking true–and the Alpha knows it’s not going to change. Unlike with the others, once he’s had Louis, tasted him, felt him, _claimed_ him, the way no other Alpha ever will, he’s never going to let go, never going to stop _wanting._ Because _want_ and _more_ are the best fucking words to describe their dynamic. Want. More. Want. More. Want…more– _always._ And he wants more than some meaningless lay. Wants more than empty words, wants more than forgettable conversations….Just wants _more._

Except the Omega doesn’t understand and the Alpha doesn’t have the words to explain.

Smiling sadly, Louis distances them, only by another inch, but it feels like so much more, hurts like so much more, then closes his beautiful eyes (though it doesn’t stop the flow of endless disappointment from clawing down Harry’s chest, through his lungs). No, _damn it,_ Louis is oblivious, so painfully oblivious. Frustrated, Harry grabs his wrist, and tugs him closer so that the Omega’s floral scent swirls and dances everywhere, but the Alpha manages to center solely on making him _realise,_ make him feel better. Happy again. Louis should always be happy.

Leaning forward, the Alpha exhales heavily in the crook of Louis’s neck, absorbing his answering shiver, how his petite, lovely body relaxes with the proximity.

“Touch me.” Without giving the Omega the chance to agree, the Alpha places his hand on the waistband of his trousers, encouraging him. “ _Touch me, kitten. God, touch me._ ”

Completely unconvinced, even a bit afraid, the Omega brings his trembling fingers lower, so light over the length of his aching cock. The thought, only the _thought,_ of Louis touching him there, makes him have to force his hips still. Louis gasps, but doesn’t immediately leave as the Alpha anticipated he would, instead he keeps his hand there, light, light pressure, making it hard to breathe evenly.

“’S worse when ‘m sober–hurts how bad I want you, Louis,” he says raggedly, linking their fingers over his cock and taking them back, away from where he craves them most. 

As the Omega is flushed, eyes droopy, body loose, the Alpha leans away, strokes the hair from his face, bringing the blankets over him, cocooning him in them, letting Louis cuddle into his chest, nose at his collarbone.

“Dream happy dreams, my only love,” he whispers into the darkness with one, fleeting kiss to Louis’s temple. Against him, Louis smiles blearily. “Won’t forget this.”  

 _Nor will I,_ the Alpha thinks, not _ever,_ though he refrains from saying so; instead he begins to hum his nameless tune, which he now has the mind to call _‘Want-More, Of You’._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...OKAY, SO THAT WAS BLOODY LONG.  
>  I would love, love, love thoughts!!
> 
> Cheers to you all, again .xx  
> 


	16. Part Sixteen;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, fuck. I'm early! FOR ONCE! Hahaha! So this one, while long, has an ending I hope to be worth it in the end!!;D  
> And of course I want to thank you all! Lovelies! I LOVE EACH OF YOU -hugs, kisses noses- You're all really the best fans. I owe much to you all & hope this will...allieviate some tensions. LOL.  
> Also, much thanks to my FUCKING BRILLIANT, BEST FUCKING BETA OF ALL TIME I DON'T EVEN CARE WTH ANYONE ELSE HAS TO SAY BECAUSE SHE IS AMAZING. SHE HELPS ME WITH EVERYTHING. WITHOUT HER, I REALLY DO NOT KNOW WHERE THIS STORY WOULD BE. LOVE HEEEEEEEEEEER, SHE DESERVES MUCH PRAISE! [bestBetaeva!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com)  
> Much the same to my darling sister!:) IDEAS, is what she provides mostly! [bestSistereva](http://fondlemezayn.tumblr.com)  
> And last, [PLAYLIST](http://open.spotify.com/user/daniid123/playlist/1gtGy0x9XPYayNTEeXgWRY) (NOTE- this playlist contains most genres of music, but these songs are mainly what I find to relate most to the story:) Any suggestions, I'd love to check them out & maybe even add them!)

Somebody is dying–they must be, that would be the only reason for that horrible, agonizing shrill cutting the seams of Louis’s unconsciousness. In retaliation the Omega’s body tremors, tensing a bit as Louis forces his eyes open, greeted by the darkness that’s never felt so out of place. Unable to think into that, Louis jolts upright, but the entire world seems to jolt with him and he collapses back into the mattress, whimpering as his head pounds in cruel, unusual ways. Apparently, his head has decided it’s at war with itself and his mouth has this awful, bitter taste to it. And all Louis can hear is that cutting shrill that doesn’t quite sound like someone’s dying now that he’s actually _listening._ But it’s horrible all the same.

Beside him someone moves, shifting before cursing lowly, “’Ello?” his Alpha’s voice is unbelievably deep and scratchy with sleep. “Get back to me in another hour or so, Gretchen.” _Gretchen?_

As the Omega clutches his temples the Alpha shifts again, then one, soothing hand runs down his bare side. Gasping at the contact Louis vaguely wonders where his clothes are, but doesn’t manage to much longer because Harry speaks, to him now, “Kitten?” there’s a seemingly fond smile in his voice.

Suddenly, exposed like this, Louis feels incredibly shy as his face heats under the Alpha’s steady gaze.

“Hi,” he whispers, grateful he’s lying on his front. And then some blurred, distorted memories of his drunken behaviour from the night before return in a rush as Louis moans, shielding his (no doubt) bright red face with his hands. “Oh, no. No, no, no. What did I _do_? Am…Am I in trouble?”

Through hushed laughter, Harry murmurs, “Not right now, no. How’s the head?”

Clinging to the distraction, and not wanting the Alpha to press, Louis blurts truthfully, “Hurts, Hazza. Really, really, hurts." 

“Mm, thought so,” the Alpha sounds so very smug–the Omega somehow finds that extremely attractive, even in this state. “Hmm. Did you at least sleep well? Certainly seemed like it to me, with all that snoring.”

 _Playful Harry._ Louis smiles sleepily. “I do not snore!” As soon as the words leave his mouth, the Omega winces at the answering pain shooting through his temples to the back of his head.

“No,” the Alpha allows, reaching around for something. “You don’t. Here, sit up, sweetheart, take these.”

With some effort the Omega does as he’s told, crossing his arm around his belly protectively, partly because he’s insecure, but more so because he feels very nauseous of sudden. Swallowing the tablets with a glorious rush of water, Louis sighs, continues sipping until closing the bottle to rest his head on the pillows again.

As his eyelids slide shut, Louis asks quietly, “Times it?”

“Seven A.M. Go back to sleep.” _With pleasure._

On command the Omega’s breathing slows and evens as Harry continues his soothing strokes at his side. There’s no fighting the oblivion, and right now, Louis doesn’t want to.

∞∞∞

                Again, Louis awakens, but this time the consciousness sinks in slowly as several facts become known. One, his head is still hurting; two, he feels like he’s going to be sick, and his entire body aches almost like he’s contracted the flu; three, he’s cozied up to a warm, soft and thin body, and this frame doesn’t belong to an eighteen year old Harry. It’s too soft. Too short. Too…everything.

Confusion settles over him– _how’d he end up in Niall’s arms?_ The abrupt knowledge that Harry’s left douses him in ice-cold alarm.

“Harry?” he croaks anyway, voice high and shrilly, and inside his Omega’s curled into a ball–abandoned.

“Relax, Lou,” the Irish lad murmurs softly. “’M here. Harry asked me to stay with you. He had some things to do and hoped you wouldn’t wake before he was back.” As he speaks the Irish boy holds him fast, but it feels _wrong,_ and only makes his eyes sting with helpless tears.

“Where?”

“No. I am not going to continue unless you _relax._ ”

Grimacing into the darkness the Omega focuses solely on breathing around the terror until his aching head has stopped spinning from the lack of oxygen. Then, he whispers, “This is as calm as ‘m goin’ to get, Ni. Please…”

“I’ll take it,” Niall sounds satisfied.

“Well?” Louis demands, feeling the nausea creep over him again.

“I actually don’t know where your Alpha went, Lou, sorry. But he left with Zayn this morning claiming to be in a bit of a rush…’S only been two hours.”

“Niall, what’s wrong with me?” he asks feebly, tossing one arm over his face, feeling the traitor tears slip down his heated cheeks. “Why? Why do I react this way to _nothing_?”

“Ah, Lou,” Niall sounds so gentle as he wraps himself around Louis who suddenly welcomes the other Omega’s soothing touch. And the Irish boy’s personality is so massive it’s impossible to feel quite so alone. Makes breathing more bearable. “It happens to the best of us. Remember how attached I was to Josh at first? You lads never saw me. It’s an Omega thing, I suppose. We’re instinctively drawn to our Alpha, without ‘em we’re lost, or least we feel like that. And scared and alone–trust me, even _I’ve been there._ Me! Remember when I’d come to yours at ungodly hours of the morning and Jay wouldn’t even comment? Yeah, your Mum understood that I needed another Omega. So. Yeah.”

Louis weighs those words before asking, “So…’M not…I’m not being too clingy? Or weird?”

“No, babe,” Niall giggles–like it’s so very absurd to think so. “Not clingy or weird at all. Just a bit in love, Lou.”

And he’s not heard the words, or confirmed them until now. Though when his breathing stops Louis thinks _big mistake_ as nausea ripples through his belly–he’s never felt so _ill._ “In…love?” then, slightly more dazed, “I am…in love.”

“Um…?” Oddly enough, Niall, who’s _shameless,_ sound somewhat uncomfortable.

“D’you think…I mean…? _Youthinkmaybehefeelsthesame_? About me? Loves…me too?”

There’s one stretch of silence. And that silence ruins him as Louis lurches forward, scrambling out of bed with one hand tight around his mouth as he rushes blindly to the bathroom. Between purging into the toilet and gasping for breath the Omega must pass out because there’s a whole void of nothing. With the physical aches and emotional turmoil the Omega is very grateful to this oblivion.

 

∞∞∞

 “What the _fuck_ do you mean? He just passed out!?” One outraged shout–an Alpha’s outraged shout. No, Louis realises, _his_ Alpha’s outraged shout.

“Harry, calm down! He’s _sick,”_ someone else (the Omega can’t decipher who) barks, almost matching Harry’s rage.

“And someone should have CALLED ME, GOD DAMN IT!” Inside, his Omega is shaking, terrified as memories threaten to resurface, memories of another Alpha’s outraged shout. And instinctively his Omega prepares for the blow that will surely follow…but as the second’s draw out there isn’t any pain (most likely due to the fact that he feels disconnected from his body, like he’s floating).

“Harry, mate, don’t…shout. It’s unnecessary. Honest, what would you have done, besides react like _this?_ ” another Alpha–Liam?–asks calmly.

In response there one menacing growl that would have made Louis cringe (if he wasn’t so out of it, that is.) _Oh, Haz,_ he thinks hazily, _‘m hung-over, not dying._

“I would have…but you didn’t…and now…” the words fade in and out…in and out…in and out.

“Alright that is _enough!_ ” sounds like Zayn. “Niall, Josh, Liam, _get the fuck out!_ You have no business being here.” Someone tries to interrupt, but, there’s Harry again, “Out. Now!” The only response: their door slams shut. Inwardly, Louis whines at the sound, as the only sensation that comes to him is more pain. “Really, Harry, chill the fuck out.”  _Listen to ‘im, Haz._

Except there’s another one of those growls and this time Louis _does_ whimper, unable to struggle against his Omega’s reaction as his body inches away from the sound, terror raining down on him. But then warm, rough, _familiar_ hands grasp his shoulders, tugging him. _No–not again, please don’t hurt me._

Louis tries to escape, whining again, but then he’s being cradled against an Alpha’s solid, flaming chest, cheeks gaining warmth from the proximity as Harry speaks, desperation seeping into his voice, “Lou? Kitten, wake up…Louis, come on, babe, _wake up._ ”

And the Omega tries, really he does, but he’s so tired and exhausted, everything aches too much to even continue the crossing to consciousness. No, he doesn’t even want to reach conscious thought; he wants to stay here, blissfully unconscious, detached from his body. Because that’ll make the inevitable beating bearable, painless even. Right now that’s all his Omega clings too, even as Louis thinks _this is Harry, he’s not going to hurt us…he’s not..._

Abruptly those hands shake him, driving Louis closer to that terrible awareness, “Hazza,” he mumbles groggily, shoving at some part of the Alpha (his chest?). “Stop it. ‘M _tired,_ and…Lemme sleep. Please, lemme sleep.” _I don’t want to hurt anymore._

“Lou…” its one anxious breath.

“No,” Louis manages to shake his head a bit, or he thinks he does. “Lemme sleep it ‘way. Stop bein’ this way. ‘M fine…Just…” but then he free-falls towards the oblivion again.

And the last thing the Omega catches is, “Zayn? Z?!”

 

∞∞∞

 

                Once again when Louis comes too he’s cozied up against a warm body. But this warm, male body is the one he always wants to wake up to. It’s long. Solid. It’s…everything. This male body _does_ belong to an eighteen year old Harry. Inside, his Omega would recognise that addictive, dark-spice scent _anywhere._

Once again, confusion strikes– _how had he ended up in Harry’s arm? Hadn’t Harry left?_ Dimly the Omega remembers being sick– _thanks, Niall, owe you one._ Remembers aching _everywhere._ Remembers cursing himself for drinking so much (for that he’ll never forgive himself). Remembers shouts, and _fear._ Then…nothing.

Now the Alpha’s unreasonably large palm strokes along the ridges of his spine, up and down, up and down, stopping every so often to play with the baby-soft hairs at the nape of his neck. _Delicious._ Desire too long denied spirals through him, an unstoppable tidal wave. Consuming him. Drowning him. But it’s so much better than his body’s previous aches. 

Here is everything his Omega’s craved since presentation. Comfort. Contact. Connection. And this Alpha is the only Alpha his Omega wants.

Swallowing a moan that would have embarrassed him more, Louis jerks upright, thinking to scramble to a stance. Those arms, already steel-bands around him, tighten before the Omega _can;_ locking him in place–probably best as his head still aches and spins.

“Oh, kitten, you’re not going anywhere. You’re goin’ to _stay,”_ the Alpha’s voice is wild, dominating, and capable of something dark…and yet Louis doesn’t feel the least bit afraid, knowing it’s Harry. Instead the Omega longs to sink closer, to let his hands explore the Alpha’s solid body, and feel those hands do the same to _his softer body._ But then again, those hands are more interested in _hurting_ his body–because that’s what Alphas do when an Omega’s bad–it’s not something Louis can ever forget.

“A-Are you going to punish me?” he whispers meekly.

“Punish you? I probably should. I’ve been going absolutely _mental_ these past _four hours._ Jesus, I really fucking should punish you.” _See,_ his Omega hisses, _he wants to._ But he won’t, Louis thinks, more forceful (though he’s not so sure).

Swallowing around the lump in his throat the Omega reaches up, patting around the Alpha’s tense muscles, following the path up his arm, to his shoulder, until stroking his cheek. “Please don’t,” Louis breathes, “I’m sorry, Haz.”

With one, vicious curse the Alpha crushes him to his chest, and like always, Louis melts against him, vaguely realising he’s dressed again (in too-big joggers, and a cotton t-shirt. Also, his hair is damp. Had someone _bathed him?_ ) “Kitten,” the breath is fervent against his temple, “You make me crazy–some serious freak the fuck out and lose my mind crazy.”

“Is there any other crazy?” Louis asks jokingly, then regrets it because Harry’s irritation, his _anger,_ rises and radiates from him, so much so that his Omega cringes. Trying to be good, Louis whispers hastily, “’M sorry I worried you, Harry.”

There’s one, long exhale as the Alpha’s arms relax around him, and Harry nods, “Well. Am I forgiven too then?”

The question shocks Louis, who blinks owlishly. “Um…” he fumbles. “What for?”

“Overreacting–it’s just that I leave for two hours and when I come back it’s to…to _that._ And a million or so possibilities ran through me and I just…You don’t know what you do to me, Louis. I feel _so much…_ When it comes to you, I feel…so much.” With those words butterflies–or just one, _huge_ butterfly–spreads their wings in his tummy and inside his Omega purrs happily.

“That’s okay. We’re okay. _I’m_ okay. _You’re_ okay…And we’re still learning together, yeah?”

“Mmm, _you_ are learning much quicker than I am, apparently. My wise, beautiful boy.”

Now the purr escapes him as the Omega cuddles into the Alpha’s chest, inhaling at his collar, then shaking his head a bit, grinning widely.

“Whatever are you grinnin’ about, kitten?”

Louis bites his lip. Hesitates…then, “You. Who are you and what have you done with _my,_ arrogant Harry?”

With that boyish cackle that makes Louis’s insides melt and liquefy the Alpha growls, “Oh, he isn’t very far, little one. One more smart remark and–,”

“Ah, ah, ah. ‘M the wise one in this relationship, Styles.”

“Well, of course. I mean you’re the only one that _realised_ how beautiful I am,” there’s mirth in his tone before it becomes high in what must be an imitation of Louis’s voice, “You’re quite beautiful, Hazza. So beautiful. Inside and outside. You’re _beautiful!”_

Louis frowns, then asks, fighting a smile, “Is that supposed to be _me?_ ” When Harry doesn’t respond right away, the boy continues, “If I sounded like that then I’m _glad_ I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?” the Alpha asks, sounding very serious now.

“Bits and pieces,” Louis mumbles, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Um there was _a lot_ of liquor. And then dancing, I think? Somehow we ended up in bed? There’s more, I’m certain. Will you tell me? So I don’t have to go to Niall?”

Another beat of silence, then the tension leaves Harry’s body as the Alpha leans down to grin against the Omega’s cheek. “Mmm. You didn’t miss much, darling. You’re quite an adorable drunk–giggly and flushed. I quite enjoyed that.”

More than embarrassed, the Omega lowers his face to his tangled hands. “Continue.”

“We _did_ dance very much,” the Alpha allows, pausing. “And you told me about that time you tried to sneak out. When we got in I gave you a piggy-back ride upstairs, we danced some more. And then you…changed, and fell asleep.”

Chewing nervously at his bottom lip, Louis breathes, “What else did I tell you?” _Because I know there’s more, I know I must’ve told you how utterly in love I am with you…_

“Aside from what I’ve already told you, not very much,” the Alpha responds carefully. “You said I’m beautiful, and perfect. And…And that you only want me.” Is there _hope_ in his voice? the Omega wonders, but decides he’s hearing what he _wants_ too, because Harry doesn’t need to hope, because Harry _is_ perfect, and can have anyone he desires. Louis can only hope he’s that _anyone._

A slow, warm blush creeps up on his cheeks. “I…You are beautiful. And perfect.” _My everything._

Again the Alpha stiffens, then growls low in his throat, the sound is one-hundred perfect bonded-Alpha (and it makes Louis’s heart lurch at the prospect that his Alpha might be bonding with his already bonded Omega), “But I’m not the only one you want? Who else do you want, kitten? ‘Cause I am not beyond tracking the fucker down and–,”

“Harry,” Louis scolds, though he’s smiling, simpering with glee. “You’re not going to do anything. Don’t you listen to me at all?” _‘Cause I’m sure I’ve said you’re the only one I want plenty of times now._

“I want to hear the words,” the Alpha demands, arms tightening around Louis’s waist. “Say the words, kitten. Say the words or I am going to…”

“Going to what?” Louis challenges, raising his blind stare, hoping his eyes are blank as they should be. “Going to force me to say them? How?” though his Omega is screaming at him to _stop_ and _shut up,_ the words tumble out of him. “Going to pin me down, so I can’t move? Kiss me some, perhaps? Like before. Force me to submit? Until…” _Until I can’t help but tell you anything you want to hear._  

“Until you’re frightened of me? Not likely, Louis.”

At this Louis blinks, wondering how Harry always seems to be on a whole other page, or book, or universe. It makes him _furious._  “You know what?” he snaps, shoving at his chest. “I don’t think I like your attitude right now, Harry.”

“ _My_ attitude?” the other repeats, incredulous–like he’s not being entirely ridiculous. 

“Yes, _your_ attitude,” Louis seethes, furious tears welling in his eyes. “In fact I’m finished with this conversation. Get out. When you’re not being such an arrogant twat then come back to me.”

“Louis,” his voice is hard, unchanged.

“Harry,” Louis murmurs evenly, though his Omega is shaking, afraid. “Get _out._ ”

And the Omega gets what he wants as the Alpha deposits him unceremoniously onto the mattress and storms out, muttering curses all the while before the slamming the door so hard the hinges must shake. Again, the sharp, piercing sound sends cutting pain through his temples. Whimpering, the Omega clutches his head in both hands.

“Bloody hell,” the words are deep, slightly distraught and then there are gentle hands prying his own hands from his head. The loss of pressure makes the pain _worse._ “You’re hurting. What hurts?”

Stubbornly the Omega only shakes his head, then winces at its retaliating dull ache.

“Please, kitten, tell me what’s wrong,” he breathes willfully, hold on his hands so gentle. Stupid, mortified tears gather in his stupid, ineffective eyes as Louis whimpers again, “It’s nothing–my head hurts, and I’m tired, and I…” _I don’t want you to leave me,_ but once again the words get lost. 

“Wait,” the Alpha orders and before Louis can protest, or beg him to stay, Harry is gone. Alone, the Omega curls into a little, pathetic ball as he tries to even his breaths, to stem the threatening tears. There’s no sound to warn him. Out of nowhere the Alpha’s large, careful hand strokes Louis’s messy, wayward hair. At the touch, Louis shudders guiltily, going to apologise when Harry murmurs quietly, “Sit up, baby.”

Unquestioningly, wanting more than anything to be good, so maybe the Alpha will stay; Louis does so, ignoring the way the world tilts with him. Keeping him upright is the Alphas hand on the low of his back. Then there are two tablets in one of his hands, a bottle of water in the next, “Drink.”

Again the Omega listens, sighing at the cool rush before extending the bottle to Harry again. And he expects the Alpha to leave again…but then he pulls Louis into his lap. Silent, the Omega shuts his eyes and rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. Unbidden, hot tears fall down his cheeks, unstoppable as his breathing hitches and breaks.

“Why are you crying?” the Alpha asks in an altered voice that only makes the mortification, the _upset_ worse. More tears.

“B-Because you m-make me…I-I d-don’t w-want...Y-You’re s-s-so _frustrating._ I-I want to make you h-happy and it n-ne-never _works.”_  And something inside him doesn’t believe he’ll _ever_ be able to make that happen.

“No. Don’t cry,” he murmurs, voice muted as his arms hold the Omega securely. “Please don’t cry for me. I’m happy. You make me happy. God, you make me _happy.”_ That’s it–Louis bursts into full-blow sobs, burying his face in Harry’s throat as to muffle the sounds.

Distancing them some the Alpha clasps his face in both hands, tilts his face and leans down to kiss him. Despite everything, the flushed, wet cheeks, the stuffy nose, the trembling mouth, Louis won’t refuse him, ever. “Don’t cry, kitten, please,” it’s a rough whisper against his mouth. “I’ve never been so happy in my entire life. And it throws me off balance sometimes. Please…Please don’t cry.” _I can’t stop–I love you and every time I’m reminded that you don’t love me I want to crawl into a hole and cry myself dry._

“You shouldn’t be h-happy because of m-me, Harry! You s-should be happy, period. D-Don’t you s-see that?”

Now the Alpha runs his thumb across Louis’s bottom lip. “No, love, I don’t. You’re reason enough to be happy. You’re it for me,” he whispers–those words wash over Louis in a warm, swift riptide. Squeezing his eyes shut the Omega let’s Harry brush the last of the tears from his cheeks.

But…Louis doesn’t want to be the _only_ reason for his happiness. When it’s all said and done, when they’ve gone down in flames, the Omega doesn’t want him to be left hurting. At first it’d been the opposite, and he’d tried to protect himself from hurting but it’s inevitable, because love _hurts,_ and so as long as the Alpha isn’t in love, Louis will do what he can to make sure he _doesn’t_ hurt the way Louis surely will, wants to make sure the Alpha can recover. And he realises that is all he wants to show Harry–that there are reasons to be happy everywhere, even when you’re hurting inside. Happiness in breathing, _living,_ chances.

But the words get lost in his Omega’s selfish greed, and it shames him inside. Before his heart loses it beat or he loses his motivation to tell the truth, the Alpha puts his fingers over his lips and shakes his head. There’s desperation in his voice, vulnerable even, “Stop. I don’t want to hear any more. It’s over. I’m an arsehole. And I’m sorry. But I am _happy_ so don’t ruin this for me, Lou, let me be happy like this.”

“Haz…No, I–,”

“There’s this film–about some bird that’s pregnant with triplets or summat. I bought it years ago but never really got the chance to watch it. So we’re going to go downstairs and I’m putting it on. Neither of us will pay any attention because I need to hold you, and you’re going to fall asleep because the pain-meds are going to make you drowsy.”

Thoughtless, Louis blurts, “Please. Please, let’s do that.”

Shocking him, the Alpha lifts him, blankets and all, bridal-style, encircling his smaller frame, holding him like he’s the air he needs to breathe. Resting his head on the Alpha’s shoulder, Louis let’s himself be soothed by the thought as Harry carries him effortlessly down to ground-level, leaving him on the sofa. Clutching the blankets to his chest, the Omega chews his bottom lip as Harry fumbles around. Then the film’s soundtrack starts in and Harry sits, pulling Louis into his lap. Throughout the movie Louis lolls in and out of sleep, hazily listening to the conversations, the music, but mostly the Alpha’s calm, steady heartbeat.

Like that the rest of the day passes breezily. Nothing done. Like them, the other’s seem to feel like staying in as well–, “Tomorrow,” Liam decides–so they spend the entire evening lazing; at least in Niall’s, Josh’s, Harry’s and Louis’s case. Contradicting his previous decision Liam chooses to spend his day out with Zayn, and Louis determines the two are bound to fall for each-other. Because already they seem to be one of those strange couples that are…endless, forever, unbreakable. That’s what Louis tells Harry quite wistfully, earning a piece of popcorn to the forehead from Niall because _“what ‘bout me and Josh!? We’re the ones getting mated in some months!”_

“Perhaps people will think of us like that, too,” his Alpha tells him quietly. At that the Omega smiles sadly–there’s no hope in or for that. Because if their relationship lasts that long society’s aristocrats, the Council, will shun him–an imperfect Omega is the worst disgrace, never acceptable. And this information isn’t new…Louis’s known this his entire life, even recalls the Russian Council’s forcing an Alpha to choose between his chosen Omega, who’d struggled with a speech impediment, and his place in the Council. Of course the Alpha chose the Council…and Louis doesn’t blame him; the Council’s an Alpha’s _life._

Mercifully, before those thoughts consume him, Louis falls asleep again. And when the Omega wakes again there’s no warmth, no Harry, but before his Omega panics, he catches the sound of his voice…Nearby he’s talking quietly. “Nah, mate, you can buy some disinfectants, just to be sure. It’s natural that they’re sore though,” Josh says.

 _Sore?_ In question, Louis’s eyebrows furrow.

“Figured that. I’ve always had sensitive nipples.”

Confused, but groggy and wanting Harry (mostly because he’s cold, and the Alpha is always two-temperatures too high…also the Omega doesn’t want to waste a moment they have together) Louis sits up and stands, taking the blankets with him (not really caring that they’re dragging on the floor) and following their voices. When he’s close, the Omega stifles a yawn with the back of his hand, “Why’re your nipples sore, Haz?”

There’s one, seemingly shocked beat of silence before the Alpha answers, “They’re sensitive right now.”

Too tired to press, Louis hums, then sighs when Harry brings him in close so his forehead rests on his collar. “Hungry, love?”

Louis shakes his head.

“Louis, babe, you really have to eat,” the Alpha urges seriously.

“But ‘m not hungry at all.” It’s true, Louis’s eating-habits have always fluctuated between eating tons and then hardly eating–it’s not intentional, not at all, but there’s no helping it.

“Well you’re goin’ to eat. The _others,_ ” there’s a slight irritated pitch to the word, “already ate. So you’re going to go to the room and get dressed. I’m taking you out tonight. Just you and I.” 

“Harry–,”

“Louis, love, not tonight,” Harry warns, the tone is authoritative enough that a shiver runs down Louis’s spine. “I hate that you’re practically starving yourself.”

“I’m not starving myself!” Louis disputes, frowning. But the Alpha doesn’t listen (when _does he?_ ); instead his hand wraps around Louis’s arm tight (not enough to cause pain) and begins to drag him upstairs. “Don’t _manhandle_ me, Styles!” the Omega tries to growl, but it’s more a shriek as he fights the Alpha’s unbreakable hold with everything he’s got. Until, with an exasperated breath, (this makes Louis think he’s won, but _no,_ there’s not beating Harry Styles) the Alpha simply tosses him quite _uncaringly_ over his shoulder and Louis shouts, “I AM NOT A DOLL, STYLES. I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!”

“In my sleep, kitten? That’s quite cowardly of you.” Ever-at-ease, his Alpha is.

“Cowardly?!” With the word, Louis scratches at his back, put out by the shirt concealing his skin. “You’re the coward! FIGHT SOMEONE YOUR OWN BLOODY SIZE!”

“Are we fighting?” there’s an award-winning grin in his voice, no doubt. “I thought we were making friendly conversation.”  

“Oh, God, if _this_ if your idea of friendly then I do _not–,_ ” before he finishes he’s dumped on the bed, gasping, _“_ even want to hear your _rows.”_

Laughing (the sound makes Louis’s breath catch) the Alpha murmurs, “Oh, baby, you’ve not seen anything yet. Get dressed, I’ll be waiting outside.”

Too seem more upset than he actually _is,_ Louis glares in his general direction, then scrambles from the bed and makes it to his luggage. When the door closes, the Omega lets himself smile, then puts on the most tattered joggers he’d (Harry’d) packed. Moving onto the Alpha’s duffle, open and right beside his, Louis grabs one of his shirts (silk material, he thinks) and pulls it on (ignoring the fact that he’s swimming in it), bringing the material to his nose and inhaling delightedly. Smoothing his fringe, the Omega pulls on socks (hoping they’re not mismatched, but at this point it’ll only add to the _homeless-person_ look) then his scuffed Vans, tucking the laces in. Opening the door, Louis announces cheerily, “I am _ready!_ ”

And the Alpha’s reaction isn’t at all what he’d expected–which very much saddens him. “You look stunning,” Harry states–well, okay, now Louis’s inside have melted and unfurled because he _knows_ he looks shoddy…but Harry still think he’s compliment-worthy though he has no idea _why._

Louis beams up at him, knowing his heart is in his eyes. As to hide this, Louis turns to start descending the stairs, one hand flattening on the wall (right now the Omega wishes he’d memorised the amount of stairs there are) when the Alpha’s fingers circle his wrist. “Wait. It’s chilly out.”  Somewhat puzzled, the Omega stops, then waits as Harry leaves him to go into their room, returning moments later and murmuring, “Put this on.”  

It’s a jumper– _Harry’s_ jumper. Without hesitating, Louis pulls it over his head, smiling shyly from underneath the hood. Without commenting, the Alpha pulls that back next to cram a beanie onto his head, bringing the hood up once again.

Raising his eyebrows, Louis asks, “Are you quite finished?”

“Nope,” the Alpha says, sounding extremely pleased. “Put on this coat, too.” And the Omega sighs, but tugs the coat over his body with a deep-set frown.

“I feel like an Oompa-Loompa,” Louis complains, arms hanging at his sides as he thinks about the lump of coat-fabric making, making his body seem chubby. “And look like one, too,” he adds sulkily.

“I think you look sexy,” Harry says, index-finger tapping his nose.

“Oh, come off it,” Louis grumbles, grinning despite himself. “’M only goin’ out like this if you do!”

“Fine,” the Alpha replies, smoothly stalking back into the room. And to Louis’s extreme satisfaction when he returns, and Louis feels his belly, it’s considerably plumper. When the Omega goes to readjust his beanie, as it’s forcing his fringe into his eyes, he finds it has pointy cat-ears poking from it.

One of the wooly ears falls limp. “A kitten beanie, Haz? Where did you even get this?!”

 “Fits you, kitten,” then he’s cooing, “Who’s my pretty little kitty?”

 Endeared the Omega plays along, extending his hands out like claws. “Beewaaare,” he hisses, feeling warm and fluffy inside when Harry throws his head back, laughing.

“So, shall we go?” the Alpha asks formally, once they’re downstairs (after about five more minutes of, as Harry calls it, ‘kitten-play’) opening one of the side doors. As the Omega goes to walk out, he pulls Harry’s coat straighter, buttoning his coat up to the neck (after some fumbling motions) because he _can._

 “Now we can,” Louis murmurs and walks through the door as Harry follows with a dry chuckle.

 “What was the point of that?”

 As he’s ahead, Louis grins lightheartedly back at him. “I can’t have my Alpha looking anything less than his prettiest for the camera.”

 Again, the Alpha cackles loudly, in that way he seems to only do for Louis, then hooks an easy arm around his shoulders. “I’m not going to feel guilty for dressing you up, Lou, if that’s what you were aiming for.”

 “Oh, darn,” the boy jokes as Harry’s long legs fall into step with his shorter ones.

 “Hmm.”

 “What now?” Louis sighs, like he’s so very annoyed.

“Would you like to ride in the Drophead tonight?”

Louis brightens, but then grins saucily, “Thought it was _chilly?_ A Convertible in this weather? You’re trying to make me _ill.”_  

“I’d take care of you,” Harry murmurs, voice intense, willful, smoky. And the Omega doesn’t want to doubt him, wants to _believe him…_ but there’s no point in making this harder than it has to be.

“Take me out in the Convertible, Harry.”

“As you wish.” With those words an alarm sounds as the Alpha guides him over to the vehicle, opens the passenger door so that Louis settles in, managing to buckle despite his trembling hands. Beside him, in the driver’s side, the Alpha takes his hand and intertwines their fingers, keeping their hands between them. With the radio’s music twirling in the wind, Louis smiles gently and let’s his eyes fall shut, humming along to whatever plays. One song turns into dozen until then Omega frowns, but just when he’s about to ask the car slows to a halt and Harry kills the engine.

“Where exactly are we?” Louis asks warily, when the Alpha’s helping him out of the car (unnecessary really, but he’ll let the Alpha have his fun. Just for tonight).

“Downtown Paris,” the Alpha answers noncommittally.

At that Louis squeaks, “ _What?_ Harry! I-I’m a _mess,_ no, we can’t–,”

Mouth brushing the palm of his hand, Harry hushes him, “You look gorgeous, Louis. You always do.”

Shaking his head once, the Omega mutters, “Don’t be silly.”

“I am completely serious.” And he sounds so, too, but Louis knows better, doesn’t believe it for one second. Lowering his face, Louis swallows, shakes his head again, wants to speak, but his throat is too tight.

“Hey,” the Alpha murmurs softly, “Remember our deal? Faith and patience. I’ve been quite patient these last days–worry and all.”

“Faith,” Louis breathes, raising his face again to smile timidly at his Alpha. “Alright, Alphaboy, you’ve not led me wrong before. You…You have my faith.” _And my heart–_ but that’s another matter entirely.

“Come on then, I’m getting hungry.” No surprise there.

“You’re _always_ hungry,” Louis grumbles, but lets the Alpha direct him forward.

“’M a growin’ boy,” Harry defends. “And you’re not hungry enough.”

Louis can’t help but grin at that. “Whatever you say, Haz, whatever you say.”

“Kitten, are you mocking me? Somehow I get the feeling you are.”

“’S not a feeling, Harry,” the Omega tells him. “I am very much mocking you.”

Through the walk the two continue back and forth until Louis can’t stop smiling, wondering when he’d fallen this in love with Harry Styles, but unable to think into it long because then they’re entered a building that’s very warm, with lilting music and quiet conversations that the Omega can’t even understand but doesn’t really care too. And over dinner Louis continuously chastises the Alpha for staring (it’s easy to figure because though Louis can’t see the Alpha’s gaze, his body can _certainly feel it_ –scorching, making him fumble) completely unaffected–or so he tells himself despite how his heart flutters and his cheeks heat–by Harry’s teasing objections (“You’re quite graceful with your hands. I’m admiring.”)

Once they’ve returned outside the Alpha flicks at one of the kitten-ears and Louis’s heart skitters again. _Jeez, will he always affect me this way?_ “See, wasn’t quite so bad, was it?” _Not at all,_ he thinks, the food was pleasant, mouthwateringly so, but much more significant is that the Alpha had taken him there, dined with him, played footsies underneath the table of some posh restaurant with him, laughed at his ridiculous expressions, held his hand on the table…which means so much more than some restaurant in Paris.

Louis smiles, “It was very…HarryandLouis.”

“LouisandHarry,” the Alpha corrects and Louis rolls his eyes at that.

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a rather significant one. My name before yours implies, to some extent, that I come before you. And that’s unacceptable. You’re always first. You come before me in all aspects. You deserve…better than HarryandLouis. You deserve LouisandHarry.”

It’s fervent–so honest. Tears pool in Louis’s eyes and his heart seems to burn and melt away. Except the Alpha, ever-the-pessimist gets the wrong idea because he starts, “Louis…I’m only–,”

Without permission the Omega stops and when Harry stops with him, Louis throws his arms around the Alpha’s throat. Surprised, and true to his balance issues, the Alpha stumbles forward, and Louis takes advantage of the abrupt proximity–fisting his hair in one hand Louis kisses him fiercely, tasting him, wrapping himself into the Alpha, wishing he could crawl, force his way into his heart. After another surprised second during which Louis’s heart nearly freezes, the Alpha begins to kiss him back, in the middle of the street of Paris, drawing him up against his hard chest.

Time floats away. Kissing Harry, having Harry kiss _him_ –this is what he’s wanted more than anything in this entire world of darkness–Harry’s arms around him, that addicting, dangerous scent on his skin, marking him.

But when the Alpha sighs against his mouth Louis knows it’s not going to last. He’s crossing that invisible boundary, the one he wants to force away with his mouth, his hands, his body against the Alphas. And without thinking the Omega does what he must to keep the Alpha wanting, and nips at his bottom lip, letting his canines catch and purring, delighted, when Harry inhales sharply, then starts to possess his mouth, tonguing at his lips, starting to–he stops. “Kitten, stop. No more.” _More,_ he’s heard that word entirely too much, though he actually hasn’t. And if he has, Louis can’t possibly recall when…but it makes butterflies flutter through belly, runs shivers up his spine.

Seeming to sense Louis’s straying thoughts the Alpha breaks the kiss, distancing them by mere inches. Though the Omega instantly misses the contact, he doesn’t want to miss the moment too, so he smiles up at him, hoping his heart isn’t in his eyes. “You know,” he murmurs breathlessly, heart creeping out of his voice as Harry’s fingers fit between his again, “You’re the kitten here, Styles. Sweet and soft. I’m quite certain this beanie belongs to _you._ ”

When Louis goes to remove the beanie, two fingers circle his wrist, holding him immobile. “Only for you.”

Louis blinks, then tilts his head to the right. “Um…?”

“I am only sweet to you, Louis. Nobody else–I have no reason to be sweet or soft to anyone else. But you do things to me, make me…sappy. Nobody else…has ever had this effect on me.”

“Not ever?” the Omega whispers, hope lighting up inside him like lightening, sends shocks of warmth through his veins. 

“Not ever,” with the words Harry starts them at a slow, aimless pace, and Louis doesn’t respond, trying (ineffectively) to smother the hope, though the Alpha continues, whispers laced with disbelief, “And I don’t think anyone else ever could.”

 

**∞∞∞**

 

For what feels like a long time the two walk hand-in-hand, often the Alpha will pause, silent until Louis asks what they’ve stopped for, then Harry will simply murmur, “Takin’ in the view.” And the response confuses him, as Louis is _sure_ the Alpha is watching him (but decides his body’s giving him the wrong signals). Unable to relate, the Omega nods, smiling shyly, very grateful for these pauses and breaks in time because he doesn’t want the night to come to an end, doesn’t want to return to reality.

As the night progresses the chill worsens until Louis’s nose must be pink, lips-chapped, but with all the clothing, being close to the Space-Heater-Styles, his body remains warm. “Aha!” the Alpha startles him and Louis almost squeaks in shock. “Found it!”

Bewildered, Louis brings to blind gaze up, brows-furrowed, mouth tilted down in a frown. “Found what?”

“Come, come,” the Alpha urges, dragging him along and Louis can do nothing but grin at his sudden excitement. Rather resembling a young boy.

Somehow they’ve ended up inside a quiet, relatively enclosed building, and the Omega is still confused when someone starts speaking to Harry in French. It’s another Alpha’s voice, which makes Louis nervous, inching closer into Harry’s side, lowering his eyes. Once the two have finished their chat, Harry murmurs, “I reckon you’ll enjoy this part.”

Wide-eyed, Louis goes to ask _what_ exactly he’s supposed to enjoy when the other Alpha returns, but with a friendly, _“_ _Amusez-vous!”_ he leaves them again. Now, the Alpha places something in his hand. Curling his fingers around the heated object Louis finds it’s a cup, arching an eyebrow at Harry, the boy asks, “Well, what is it?”  “That’s not it, but I think this will do better with the weather for now. Go on, try it.” There’s still that young boy’s excitement in his voice. Grinning fondly the Omega traces the cap until finding the opening, then brings it up to his mouth and sips hesitantly.  Chocolate melts against his tongue, sweet, warm, and thick. Louis swallows, and then moans appreciatively. “What is _this?_ ”

“ _Chocolat Chaud,_ ” the Alpha supplies in that deep, perfected accent. Then, more like himself, “Hot chocolate, but the milks thickened, and I asked for some actual sugar. Usually it’s taken without, but I know you’re really into sweets.”

As to hide the bittersweet emotions the Alpha remembering that trivial detail brings to him, Louis takes another sip, smiling softly.

“But more important,” Harry persists, leading him somewhere then urging him to sit. Slowly, the Omega does so, placing the cup on the table, then turning to face Harry again, who places something else in his hand, another cup, much wider, and cold. Then there’s a spoon and the Alpha’s peeled the lid from whatever it is that’s got him so energized. “Try it.”

Listening, Louis scoops the mystery-treat with the spoon, then puts it in his mouth. Again the taste brings his taste-buds to life, smooth, cold vanilla cream and something more, something… “Where do you find these places?”

“Do you like it?” There’s one brief instant Louis considers saying no, just to tease him, but decides it’s impossible to even think about disgracing such a heavenly-sweet.

“Love it,” Louis murmurs, smiling shyly before scooping more and popping it in his mouth. “What is it, though? Vanilla and…’Coco? Cinnamon?”

“Actually, I don’t know,” the Alpha almost sounds bashful.

Louis giggles, shaking his head once, but taking another serving to hold out to Harry. “C’mon then. Try it. ‘M not enjoying this alone.”

But when Harry tries it, he makes a disgusted noise. “Christ, no. Sugar-rush. Gross.”

Louis pouts, tries another mouthful, sighing happily at the explosive taste of the ice-magic-cream-stuff. “You’re such a fruit-freak!”

“Fruit-freak? ‘V not heard the one before. But I’ll admit it’s rather fitting.”

“You don’t need to admit what everyone already knows, Hazza,” he teases quietly, peering up through his eyelashes for effect.

“Then I won’t have to admit…Oh, wait, you already know that. Shame.”

Unimpressed, the Omega continues to scoop and taste and let his sense of taste take him to wonderful places.

“And I really wanted to tell you…”

Unable to help it, Louis laughs outright now, grinning so wide his cheeks ache. “Alright, fine, I’ll humour you. Baby, please tell me. I was wrong. I couldn’t possibly know what’ve you’ve not told me…I’m dying of suspense.”

“Uh…” the Alpha sounds almost embarrassed. _Whoa._ “Let me get back to you.”

“Oh, my God!” Louis starts, shocked. “You are…unbelievable.”

“What? Come on! I didn’t expect you to actually play along!”

Again, Louis can’t help the mirth bubbling up inside him, escaping as giggles.

“Are you _laughing at me,_ kitten?” To stifle the sound, Louis bites his bottom lip and shakes his head innocently. “I think you are,” Harry continues thoughtfully.

“No,” Louis whispers, but once again dissolves into giggles, clamping one hand over his mouth. “You…You’re assuming.”

“Nonsense. I’m always right. And you are very well _laughing at me…_ ” Without warning they’re very close, and the Alpha breathes against his cheek, smiling there, “But you know what?”

Louis couldn’t begin to guess–the Alpha is impossible to make out. So, instead he sighs and shakes his head.

“I like your laugh and your girlish giggle, and all those smiles you give me. And that’s what I’m admitting.”

Without permission his eyelids flutter shut; everywhere they touch, their hands, his face, and throat (where the Alpha’s fingertips caress some pattern there, and Louis hadn’t noticed how sore those spots are, almost wonders _why_ ) feels heated, silk-soft flames that sink deeply into him, straight through his veins to his fast-beating heart. “I…I don’t have a girlish giggle,” he breathes back seconds-too-late.

“You do. And it’s lovely. I don’t think I can begin to describe how lovely you are, Louis.”

“Sweet-talker,” Louis can’t help the face-splitting grin that takes over his mouth, but saving his composure, the Omega turns and goes back to the ice-cream, taking kitten-licks because he really _isn’t_ hungry, but it’s too delectable to quit. Soon it becomes exceptionally difficult to focus on the taste with Harry staring at him again. So, the Omega manages to stop, finds the lid with his hands (right beside the cup on the table) and fits it over the cup, placing the licked-clean spoon over the top. And he wants to glare, say something cutting, but the Alpha speaks first, “Let’s get you home.”

“Then cuddles?” the Omega requests expectantly.

With one long, _very_ dramatic sigh, Harry says, “If we _must._ ”

“We must,” Louis decides, catching his bottom lip between his canines. Accepting this, the Alpha helps him out of the booth carefully but when Louis starts to grab the remnants of their sweets, Harry stops him, “Leave it.”

“But–,”

“Just this once, little one, listen to me. Leave it.”

“Alphas,” the Omega grumbles, but let’s Harry lead him out and by the time they’ve reached the car again fatigues swept through him. Despite having slept most of the day, exhaustion still sinks into his bones until the Alpha is carrying most of his weight. Self-conscious, Louis tries to right himself, but once again Harry stops him, “It’s okay, little one. I’ve got you.”

Well, that’s when things speed up until without any recollection of _how_ he ended up there, Louis is in the car, curled up (uncomfortably due to the safety-belt) and on that fine line between consciousness and unconsciousness.

More time passes before the Alpha wakes him (as they pull outside the penthouse). “Do I need to carry you in?” he asks quietly.

Louis shakes his head sleepily. No way. Mercifully, Harry _listens,_ helping him out and taking them to the front-doors. As the Alpha makes quick work of opening one of the doors, Louis leans against him, resting his head against Harry’s arm, eyes remaining shut.

“’S been a long day, yeah?”

Louis nods.

“Tired?”

Again, Louis nods.

“You’re not very talkative. A feat in itself.”

Too tired to put out an actual conversation, the Omega chooses the nod.

There’s that grin in the Alpha’s voice as the door opens silently. “Come then. I’ll put you to bed.”

Forcing himself to wake up some (he’ll never be able to do _anything_ this asleep) Louis ascends the stairs with Harry trailing him. Inside their room he begins to carelessly toss articles of clothing from his body. First to go is the beanie, then the coat (which he struggles with quite a bit until Harry’s quick, practised fingers replace his, pushing it from his shoulders. The idea of Harry undressing him sends vague shocks of heat through his veins) then the jumper, his shoes and socks. “Gonna shower. Wait for me,” Louis mumbles, because he wants to feel refreshed again.

Stumbling some, the Omega gets into the bathroom, uses it, then with practised movements starts the shower (tests the water with his hand a few times before finding an alright temperature). Removing his pants and Harry’s shirt (knowing he’ll find another) the Omega enters the shower, leaning against the wall as the water cascades over him. Making quick work of washing his skin Louis doesn’t notice that soap ends up in his eyes until they begin to sting excruciatingly. Wincing, the Omega goes to rinse the substance from his eyes but ends up slipping and hits the tile with a thud, and his vision flashes eerily almost like he’s _seeing,_ there’s one burst of white (is that the colour?). Gasping, the Omega begins to blink crazily, wondering what is happening but in seconds the spark’s disappeared, returning the darkness. Shaken, Louis curls up, rubbing his eyes viciously with water and shivering against the tile.

When someone raps on the bathroom entrance Louis knows its Harry and works to shake the distress away, standing slowly. “Coming!”

 _Stop overreacting, Lou, it was nothing,_ the Omega thinks forcefully, composure coming over him again. Once outside the shower Louis manages to towel-dry, going to the sink and brushing his teeth viciously before venturing into their room. When the Alpha announces he’ll leave him to get dressed, Louis does so hastily as possible (taking another of Harry’s shirts, silk again, but long-sleeved) and wriggling into pants.

Finished, the Omega gives Harry the okay, crawling into bed as the Alpha begins to rustle about, doing God knows what. But when his head meets the pillow Louis doesn’t immediately fall asleep because Harry’s yet to join him.

“Hazza,” he whines, not even embarrassed by the neediness in his voice. There’s no possible way he’s sleeping without him–his nerves are too wired, and he can sense tonight will be one of those nights where he wakes up screaming if the Alpha doesn’t hold him.

“Yes, love.”

“Cuddles. Now.”

“I need to make a phone call first. Go to sleep, babe. I’ll be back in a little while.”

Louis frowns, then sits up despite the protest from his body, crossing his arms. “N-No. I’ll wait.”

This time the Alpha’s answering sigh is one of true exasperation, but there’s a fond note to the sound that Louis desperately hopes he’s not imagining. _Please, don’t leave me._ “Louis, go to sleep.”

“No. Not without you.”

“Why the bloody hell not?”

“I…” Louis swallows, bringing his knees to his chest, scared that when the words escape, his lungs might collapse. “I don’t have nightmares when you’re with me.”

“You have nightmares?”

“Yes.” _Nightmares, memories, night-terrors, call it what you must._

Somehow the Omega catches the Alpha’s sharp intake of breath–inside he wilts, but doesn’t seem to have the will be overly upset about this. “What are your nightmares about?”

“The usual,” he hedges, squeezing his eyes tight–wishing the darkness was enough to keep the memories away.

“Tell me.” _Please no…_

Torn between the insistent need to obey and the insistent need to keep that particular part of him locked away, unseen by anyone else, Louis swallows and tenses. Thinks about it. Thinks about how to answer without giving too much. Just this once he welcomes the silence, because no noise is better when he’s handling this, no noise makes it clear that the memories aren’t real anymore. “I…I’m about seven…and my head hurts. It hurts, always hurts! And I am crying. I can’t _stop crying._ It…It makes him angry. He’s so angry, Haz.  So he shouts and shouts, but the w-words aren’t e-enough, they d-don’t calm him. D-Don’t give him the satisfaction, only makes me cry more. Words won’t fix it.” Louis stops, pulls in deep breaths to stop the trembling as despair chokes him. In his mind it’s _real,_ and his Omega is so terrified, doesn’t want to go back into hiding.

“Everything hurt then,” he whispers, though it’s barely a breath. “It’s the pain I remember most–the headaches, the words, the…o-other s-stuff. That’s what gives me night-terrors. That and the fact that I…c-couldn’t do anything to stop it. C-Couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t s-stop….” _being a “blind, useless fucking Omega”_ “Couldn’t…be _enough._ ” _Oh no, no, no,_ he thinks frantically, _this isn’t right, this is…hurts too much still, unbearable._

Isolated with the memories, Louis doesn’t realise what Alpha is grabbing his arms, pulling him forward. Instant reaction: _get away._ Thrashing wildly, the Omega tries to escape, but his body is exhausted, doesn’t seem to want to fight for him. “Louis,” he knows that voice, could recognise it anywhere. _Harry._ “Kitten, stop. Enough. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

The tension, the fight leaves him in a rush. And his head becomes too clouded, clouded with issues, clouded with that addictive scent, the scent that is suddenly _everywhere._ God, he’s going to cry. Cry with relief. Cry with happiness. Cry with anger. Just _cry–_ not pretty-crying either, no, fat-tears, runny nose, soul-wrenching sobs, cry.

“Louis? Kitten, come on. Come back to me. You’re not there anymore, love.” _Not there anymore…_ With the words the phantom pain crawling over his entire frame begins to fade.

But it’s not enough. Frantic, Louis scrambles impossibly close, burying his face in the Alpha’s throat. There his head swims, like he’s inebriated again, God, he’s so wrapped up in his Alpha–it can’t possibly be healthy…but right now it doesn’t matter.

“Lou, please. We need to talk.”

 _No...Make it go away, not come back._ “Haz, no, please…I’ve cried so much,” Louis whispers, attempting to keep his wayward emotions in check. Exhaustion overcomes all else, the terrors faded into nonexistence, the pain’s gone with the terror and his body feels weightless. “Don’t hurt me,” the words tumble from his mouth before he thinks better.

“Oh, love, no. No, no,” the Alpha tugs his hand and before Louis realises what’s happened he’s in the Alpha’s lap. And Harry’s arms are around him, nose in his hair. “I would never hurt you, Louis. Never.” _I can’t let myself believe that, Harry…I can’t._

Reflexively he wants to struggle out of the Alpha’s hold, to maintain some distance (because his Omega hasn’t recovered), but those arms are solid-bands around his waist, crushing him to his chest. There’s no getting away…and really, he doesn’t want to try to get away anymore. Against him, Louis melts–this is where he wants to be.

Resting his head against Harry’s shoulder the Omega sighs when the Alpha kisses his hair repeatedly. This is home–with that expensive body-wash, dark spices, and his favourite scent…Harry.

A moment passes where Louis allows his Omega the illusion that all will be well, and it soothes his wrecked soul. _I love you so much._ “Don’t leave me…Stay.”

“Anything for you, kitten. Anything. But we are talking about this.”

“Later,” Louis breathes, aware that it’s not going to happen. Because he’s not going there again, not with Harry around. But to convince the Alpha, he repeats raggedly, “Later.”

“In the morning. We are talking about this in the morning, Louis.” _No, we really aren’t._ “For now though, you’re exhausted. I’m exhausted. It’s late. Sleep.”

“No nightmares?” his voice is so small, vulnerable as he begins to drift a bit, about to succumb when–

Lowering them, the Alpha curls his arms tight around him. “You’re enough, Louis, and I never want to let you go,” he breathes against his temple. “No more nightmares. Now rest.”

“I never want to go. Never let me go,” Louis mumbles drowsily, eyelids refusing to open despite the fact that he actually _wants_ Harry to see the truth. And he knows the truth is there, in his useless eyes.

“I need you…” but the Alpha’s voice is a distant, ethereal part of Louis’s sleep

**∞∞∞**

                Sleep never finds him–which hasn’t happened since he’s started to sleep with Louis, but there are more pressing matters creating maddening in his mind. And the Alpha has every intention of bringing up the previous night, to demand who the hell _‘he’_ is, where he can find him too. Because he has the sneaking-suspicion that he _knows_ how ‘ _he’_ is and the prospect tinges his vision with crimson. But too soon night becomes morning and Harry once again gets lost in his Omega’s beauty in the soft, morning light filtering through the curtains. As the Alpha drinks in the sight his eyes find the path of littered love-bites covering his throat, transfixing him.

God, it’s still not enough–those markings don’t work as the bond would, doesn’t protect Louis from other Alpha’s.

When his phone vibrates on the night-stand the Alpha reluctantly carries his gaze over to his phone, checking through his piling email, torn between needing to get this _done_ (because it’s going to be stressful as the course works enhances) but slightly terrified to leave his vulnerable, sleeping boy. And he’s about to deactivate the bloody thing and continue staring when Louis stretches, resembling the little kitten he is as his mouth forms one of those sweet smiles, eyes remaining shut.

It’s only now that Harry realises the Omega is swimming in his shirt–the silk, long-sleeved one with the hearts (it’s never been worn so well as now).

“Mmm, seems someone’s been thieving. Most of my shirts have gone missing. Could a certain Omega know where they’ve gone?”

“I have no idea. But I like wearing your T-shirts so they’d best return them,” Louis mumbles blearily.

Smiling, the Alpha leaves over and kisses his forehead. “I need to work through some things. But I don’t wanna leave you alone. Can I use the laptop here? Will I disturb you?”

“Just stay,” then he’s promptly back to sleep–damn him but Harry doesn’t have the heart to leave _or_ to wake him again so he simply reaches for his laptop from where it lies beneath the bed-frame, then begins to rummage through the bullshit that’s piled up from days of neglect. 

 

**∞∞∞**

               

Some hours pass until Harry’s gone through most of the work (school, business, etc) and the Alpha doesn’t want to ever see another portfolio again. Rubbing his straining eyes, Harry decides it’s best to get up and does so, but remains mindful of the buzz, using it to steady his thoughts and emotions. When he returns to the bedroom, dressed and towel-drying his damp hair the Alpha lies beside his Omega on top of the throw. It’s mere minutes later that Louis’s eyes flutter open, blue, blank, and so beautiful.

“Hi,” he murmurs, grinning lopsidedly.

Louis whispers back, “Hi. How long have you been watching me?”

“I could watch you sleep for hours, Louis. But I’ve only been here ‘bout three minutes. Sleep okay?”

Uncertainty clouds his features, then, “I always sleep well with you, Haz.”

“No more nightmares?”

“No more,” the boy confirms, and those blue eyes widen impossibly, begging him not to bring it up. And, well, there’s always time to talk about it, right?

“C’mon then, sleepyhead, get up. The idiots are making a mess of my kitchen and I need someone to hold me back.”

Louis grins, obviously relieved. “Is there food?” Something extremely instinctive thrills through him at the thought of feeding his Omega–caring for him. Except he’s too attuned to Louis’s feelings, and knows now isn’t the time to start with that. Best to keep it light.

“With Niall?” he asks, attempting to seem in disbelief. “There’s _always_ food.”

 

**∞∞∞**

 

“Mr. More!” the Irish lad shouts around a shit-faced grin when Louis appears in the kitchen doorway–freshly showered, dressed in jean-shorts and a white shirt with some sort of design the Alpha pays no mind to. Beside his Omega, trying to pay attention to the eggs Niall _isn’t_ watching, Josh looks vaguely annoyed. But there’s no stopping Ireland, “I’ve missed you so!”

Seeming to ignore him, Louis asks, “Where is my breakfast? And my Harry?”

“You still want _more_ of Harry?” Niall is absolutely teeming with cheerful amusement. “You naughty thing, you’re insatiable.

“One more word, Ireland,” the Alpha threatens, shooting him a dark glare, “And I am going make the rest of your day a living hell.” And he means it, likes to think himself particularly talented in the torturous aspects of life.

“Just bein’ round the likes of _you_ accomplished that,” Niall sing-songs, but returns to the eggs, sprinkling salt over the scrambles, snickering.

“Children!” Liam enters the kitchen, looking extremely disapproving, but there’s some fond light in his puppy-eyes. “What is going on?”

“It’s him!” Niall declares, pointing rudely at Harry, who’s focused on Louis, whose eyes unknowingly follow the line of conversation, ever-unfocused.

“Which naturally means it’s _you,_ ” his best-mate follows behind Liam, going over to Louis and smoothing his damp hair back, affectionate in ways he’s only acted towards Harry. Even so, it’s different than an Omega touching an Alpha, it’s an Omega touching another Omega, sweet, caring, _understanding._ “Don’t know how you’ve managed to put up with that Irish thing this long, Lou. Honest, I’d have done away with him long ago.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Louis grumbles, but smiles timidly at Zayn. And it’s so bizarre because Louis’s never seemed overly fond of his best-mate, nor visa versa, but right now the two look… _intimate,_ smiling softly at each other.

“What the _fuck is going on?!_ ” Niall screeches, marching up to Louis and Zayn. There he shoves at Zayn, grabbing Louis’s arm. “Back off, Malik! He’s _mine._ You don’t get to pet him or love him or _smile at_ _him_ _like that_ or–,

“Neither do you,” Harry states, going up to them and taking Louis’s other arm, tugging gently, but not enough because the Irish boys grip doesn’t give. “He is _mine,_ Horan.”

“I don’t think so, Styles! He was _my_ bestest friend, and I was _his_ before–,”

“Can’t we all just get along?” Liam exclaims, looking lost.

“Can’t we all just _share_ ‘im?” Josh mutters next–standing beside Liam now.

“Share him?” the Alpha growls, possessively bringing his Omega closer. “What are you _implying,_ Josh?”

“Yeah _Josh,_ ” Ireland seethes, whirling round to face his Alpha with blazing blue eyes; furious, feisty, and Irish. Lethal combination, even Harry’s realised this. “What _are_ you implying?”

“Where is my _food?_ ” Louis demands, obviously giving up on following the constant tangle of conversations going back and forth, “Will someone _serve_ _me_ already?”

“Who are you?” Niall snorts. “The Council?”

Louis glares in his general direction. “No, but my bloody Alpha is. So why don’t you shut that big mouth of yours, Niall?”

“Someone’s grumpy when they’re hungry,” Liam comments, grinning fondly.

“No, ‘m grumpy when I have to listen to the lot of you idiots bicker back and forth.” _Feisty kitten._

“Ditto,” Zayn decides, starting towards the dining area. And then the Alpha can’t help but laugh at the lot of them, shaking his head in amusement and thinking to join his best-mate while the others straighten out what is going on (as he’s forgotten).

“What’re you laughin’ ‘bout, Styles?” Josh growls.

Nosing at Louis’s silken hair Harry stifles his laughter, “The…eggs are burning.”

There’s a mad scramble to secure the hazardous zone in the kitchen, and everything’s calmed down. Once that’s taken care of…they actually manage to have a rather decent, proper breakfast, mind the burnt-to-near-char-eggs. That’s that. In the bedroom again, fumbling to get dressed on time, Louis comments quietly, “You handled them quite well this morning. I’m impressed.”

Flashing his signature cheeky grin, the Alpha murmurs, “I handle everything well.”

In the suitcase the Omega’s hands pause as he thinks this through, then nods. “You’re right.”

All bonded-male pride wells up inside him. “I usually am.”

“Ha-Ha,” Louis replies dryly, tossing another shirt in the air from where he’s scavenging again. Then, pulling out a deep blue, white-striped forearm cut top, and facing him, the boy asks, “How’s this? Matching?”

And the question, Louis cross-legged beside the piles of clothes, is horribly domestic. Panic coils in his stomach but the Alpha can’t seem to look away as another, buried part of him wants this–wants a life that revolved around waking up to Louis in the soft-morning light, watching him fumble around in the mess he’s made of their room, having him ask what look’s best and what doesn’t (though there isn’t a doesn’t), wants to know the Omega will be waiting for him to come home, or vice-versa. Now, his heart pounds, thumping against the walls of his ribcage cruelly–terror and horror and complete _panic_ at his train of thought floods him. _But I don’t want to remember life without you…_

With that thought the Alpha drops his gaze, unfocused, but this time out of sight, out of mind, doesn’t work. Figures. “Yeah. Perfect.” _So much for handling everything well,_ his Alpha snarls, clawing at his chest. Great, now _he’s_ back.

Unaware of the Alpha’s inner-turmoil the Omega hums quietly. “You’re also very good with the girls. Mum’s impressed. Even I tend to get overwhelmed.”

“It was only a few minutes, Lou,” Harry replies, despite knowing it’d be easy to handle them, he likes to think himself good with children, he’s had quite some practise, but Zayn’s always been better, an Omega’s natural instinct to care for the young. “And I like them. They’re sweet.”

“It runs in the family,” Louis murmurs, walking up to where he stands, and the Alpha _has_ to look as there’s one of those smiles in his voice, and when he looks there’s one of those smiles curving his mouth, brightening his face.

“No doubt.” And he’s smiling back, unable to help that this bittersweet feeling risen in him. For some time they stand there…smiling at each other and looking fucking ridiculous he’s sure, but his heart begins to flare hot. God, he never wants to look away.

So, this time, he doesn’t.

 

**∞∞∞**

From there it happens slowly. Or maybe it doesn’t and Harry’s too dense, shallow-minded to notice, but then they’re fumbling about the streets of Paris. Niall’s pestering Zayn who looks torn between annoyance and admiration–a feat in itself–while Josh and Liam are staring at the bloody map (Niall _insisted_ they’d use rather than their phone because this is _“family-time lads! Put down the technology!”_ And it’d be too hard to deny him, honest) and Harry…Harry watches Louis. Because Harry _always_ watches Louis–pinning, and had they not known each other it’d be a bit creepy, how taken he is with the younger boy.

Because the Alpha watches Louis sleep–features relaxed, and peaceful–, watches Louis banter with Niall–all fond, light insults. Because the Alpha watches Louis converse quietly with Zayn on the sofa at night about nonsense–interested and attentive. Because the Alpha watches Louis when he’s speaking to no one, when he’s lost in his thoughts, beautiful eyes shut, hands gracefully tracing whatever’s closest to him. Surely it’s unhealthy, because there is only one day left, one more day of LouisandHarry, and the thought of returning home burns through his sane-thought.

But Harry doesn’t let himself think about this. Or rather he doesn’t have the _time_ to think about it as they’re in constant motion, starting with the classic-tourist act, walking about and being ridiculous (how young everyone acts is so odd to Harry, who’s mostly quiet, more so than Zayn, who brushes his hand soothingly many times, mouthing to him _‘it’s okay,’,_ then when the Alpha continues his careful observations the Omega confronts him. Up ahead, Louis is preoccupied, listening to Liam’s descriptions.

“Hey,” the other says softly, and the Alpha stares straight ahead, never meeting his gaze, unwilling to let even his best-mate see how this affects him. “Stop over thinking this. It’s fun. You’re eighteen, Haz, not thirty; you’re allowed to act a mess.”

“No, I’m not. I’m an Alpha of Council, we don’t–,”

“Harry. Shut up with that Council bullshit. See that boy over there,” Zayn points to Louis, who’s laughing like mad as Niall squawks, “ _Bad ass Tommo, bad ass! Look at you, beatin’ Liam at info!”,_ “He’s not lookin’ for an Alpha of Council. He’s looking for _you._ Give him that.”

“I don’t remember how to have…fun.” Sadly, it’s true. The last thing that’d he’d done just to have fun was…probably age fifteen, when he’d dragged Zayn to that Uni-party and sang karaoke on stage all night long to Britney Spears. There’d been no reason then, no romance, no obligations, just…laughing, pissed-drunk, meeting normal people, like Ed, who’d not even been in Uni, but like them, had come to get wasted and be one of those strangers that killed the party but also _made_ it.

And Zayn seems to remember that time too because he grins, “Good times, wasn’t it? Been a while. I’d never seen you so _wasted,_ never seen you smile like that so much, well until now, with Louis. That was fun. Let loose, forget about your Father and the Council and whatever else. Have fun like that again. You deserve it, too, you know.”

“You lost your trousers,” the Alpha says, “And I’d lost my _mind._ I’d never woken up more embarrassed! God remember those _pictures?!_ And that one tabloid that was titled–,”

“Styles Gone Wild with Stark Omega? Will the two’s relationship be revealed…?”

“Yes! That one! And there was our picture, you trouser-less while I threw up on the side of the road. Jesus, if it wasn’t so much fun I’d regret that.”

Zayn sighs. “What happened to us, Haz? How’d we end up so unhappy so fast?”

Throat tight the Alpha still swallows, speaking quietly, “Life happened–the Council, the Alphas…Sometime along the road we screwed up and went our own path. Probably the wrong path. But we’re getting back on track, aren’t we?”

“I hope so…I really fucking do because I’m happy right now. And I want to stay this happy.

“Me too,” the Alpha whispers, brushing their hands, this time both their fingers tremble, but the contact’s achingly familiar. “Let’s keep them. We were bound to let other people in some time, and I…I really want to keep them. Keep _him_.”

There’s something extremely hopeful that gleams in the other’s eyes, replacing the previous tired. “Yeah. Same. Same, this time we’re going to hold onto happiness. I am going to…try…for Liam. And you can try for Louis. And…And if it doesn’t work out, and we screw up again, at least we’ll still have each other, right?” And he remembers that one night, holding Zayn while he cried, beat up and worn after _Alpha number three,_ remembers promising that if, at thirty at the latest, they still hadn’t found their meant Omega and Alpha, that Harry would play the part for Zayn, and Zayn would play the part for Harry. Because they could have played the roles perfectly…but it would have only been just that: _role-playing._ It wouldn’t have been meant, like Louis is for Harry, and Liam seems to be for Zayn.

“We won’t screw up. _You_ are _not_ screwin’ up. I won’t let you screw this one up. I…No, he’s meant for you. You deserve to be loved. Like proper loved. And I think Liam can give you that. So you’re not screwing up.”

“But what about you?”

“I will figure that out. I can take care of myself. I’ve done it for ages now.”

“Whattayatalkin’about!?” Louis bounds up too them, smiling sweetly before cramming between them, grabbing the Alpha’s hand in one hand and Zayn’s in the next.

“Wait ‘til you hear this…” Zayn starts, the thick emotion leaving his voice the same instance. Shaking the bittersweet emotions away, the Alpha shakes his head, grinning ridiculously at the reiteration of their story.

Louis throws his head back, laughing airily. “ _My Harry?_ ”

“Yep. Lover-boy over here was all ‘bout Britney back in the day.” There’s no escaping the conversation as the Alpha attempts to defend himself but it’s deflected every time until he’s forgotten anything but _this, them, now._

Soon they’re before the Eiffel Tower, and Niall has Harry take a million or so pictures (which he’s fine with–he’s always loved capturing beauty on film, keeping the memories fresh). There’s Niall and Josh, Niall and Louis. Liam and Zayn, then Zayn with Niall (to which Zayn looks disgusted before planting a sloppy kiss to the Irish boy’s cheek), following is Zayn and Louis (who aren’t even facing the camera but each other, both looking adorably shy but somewhat smitten, which the Alpha frowns at–but decides he’s reading wrong when Louis ruffles Zayn’s overgrown hair.) Finally, the five have their group-shot, and Harry’s about to inform them that it’s time to continue on when Niall starts it, “Styles! What the bloody hell are you thinking?! We’ve not even gotten you and Lou yet!”

Rolling his eyes, the Alpha lets the Irish boy shove him forward, then grabs Louis’s hands in his, smiling, “Hello there, beautiful.”

Louis grins, then raises his eyes shyly. “I feel like we’ve not spoken one-on-one since this morning.”

“We haven’t. The brats are determined to keep us apart–you’re everyone’s favourite, Lou, everyone wants your attention.”

Disregarding the last bit, Louis asks, “The brats?”

“All four of them,” he replies surely, about to press the attention matter when–

“WILL YOU TWO FACE THE BLOODY CAMERA AND STOP MAKING GOOGLY EYES?!”

Laughing, the Alpha brings Louis close, nosing at his temple and ignoring the others, even as Louis faces them, smiling sunnily. Photogenic, his boy is. There are more than a few photos, only two of which Harry manages to look at the camera, and three of which he’s kissing the Omega, thinking all the while: _I am going to lose my mind._

“Hey, you!” Josh calls forcefully to one unsuspecting fellow. “Take these pictures for us!”

Somehow there ends up more group-shots than anything, most of which are completely ridiculous; Niall shouting and raving and Louis laughing, Harry glaring, Zayn rolling his eyes, Liam blinking, Josh with a hand over his face. Overall, there are two decent ones where they’re all looking at the camera, but otherwise it’s disastrous (but he’ll probably keep them all–every single shit-faced one)

Once they’ve moved on, it’s mid-afternoon and they’ve gone food-tasting, which is Louis’s absolute nightmare–looking disgusted and terrified every time he dares to put something in his mouth. Used to the French delicacies the Alpha smiles at every offering and eats most of it (snails aren’t so bad, honest, they rather taste like chicken). Meanwhile Zayn shares Louis’s disgust, munching on crisps and sipping at sweet-tea the entire time. Liam and Josh accept politely, but it doesn’t go by unnoticed that the two barely touch their food, stealing crisps from Louis or Zayn cleverly when they think nobody is looking. Seems Niall and Harry are the only two quite so open to trying novel dishes–it’s the others’ loss, honestly.

Soon they’ve finished, and there’s a heated (no surprise) debate on their next destination. Quietly, Louis mumbles, “What about pottery? Isn’t there somewhere to make pottery?”

“Ah, Lou, not again! That’s so messy!” Liam complains, like they’ve done this before.

“Let’s go make some clay-shit or whatever,” Zayn declares, holding Louis’s hand and helping him out of his seat. Taking one last swing at the fruity iced-tea spiked with some sort of alcohol, Harry agrees, “I’m with the pottery idea. We’re goin’ with it.”   

That’s how they end up on the other side of the city (taxi ride necessary) at some place called _‘Classic-Pottery’._ There’s about fifteen minutes where they’re taught how to do it–the Alpha makes sure to pay careful attention because Louis won’t be able to do this alone (though this makes him furious, resentful of life and all its cruelty, he doesn’t want to ruin their whole last day so he sweeps those thoughts under his mental-rug). Instead he watches the methods and let’s Louis do the listening (as it’s a tourist spot, the instructors are bilingual, perhaps more, he can’t tell) until they’re told to partner up. As Zayn sides Liam, grinning at him, the Alpha goes to Louis, and as they’re parting Harry thinks he hears something like, “ _Better watch yer back, Malik,_ ” from Niall, which makes him chuckle and Louis giggles (having caught that apparently).

Despite having watched how it’d done twice, when they’ve reached their platform decorated with clays and tools and all these bizarre objects, the Alpha can’t manage to recall what the hell is supposed to happen or where the fuck to start. Weirdly enough, his Omega _does_ as he tells Harry, grinning adorably, “We’re goin’ to make a mug.”

“Only _one?_ ” the Alpha exclaims, mock scandalised, watching as Louis assess their platform with careful hands, looking very sure of himself. “Who will keep it?”

“Visitation-rights, Hazza. I demand full-custody. You can have her on weekends.”

“Her?”

“I’ve always wanted a girl. Let’s name her Harriet,” Louis mumbles, distracted. “Now, step one, clay. Gimme a proper amount, more than a handful I’d say, and hold the damp sponge.”

Grabbing the clay, disgusted with the texture, the Alpha places the glob in Louis’s cupped hands, intrigued, “Have you done this before, kitten?”

A delicious flush spreads over his cheeks. “Yeah–Mum’s quite the expert. C’mere, watch.” And when the Alpha shuffles over, he watches Louis’s hands, graceful as they begin the molding process, using some method (the name Harry’s forgotten). Really, it is quite messy and wet and unappealing so Harry opts out of touching until Louis murmurs, “Okay, now it’s your turn. I can’t do this part, Mum never taught me. Use the wheel to form its inside, it won’t take long, it’s rather smoothed out and wet already.”

Blinking the Alpha mutters, “Er…Okay?” Not really knowing what he’s supposed to do, but damned if he says so, Harry takes the shaped-clay, gritting his teeth as he fits the thing over the wheel that he has no clue how to work. When he attempts to start out, clay comes back at him, splatters on his shirt and catches Louis who laughs, wiping at his forehead, leaving a streak of clay behind. “My, God, Hazza! Don’t let it _go,_ then we’ll have to remold! Here,”

Rising, the boy places one hand over his, letting the Alpha bring them inside, where his fingers get sticky and wet and he wants to take them back but Louis holds him steady, humming. “’S not so hard, yeah?” As the wheel works its magic around their hands Harry catches Zayn’s grumbles from the station over, “This is not enjoyable. The texture creeps me out!” And he agrees completely.

When the horror is over, and the clay looks sort of decent, the Alpha (after removing their messy hands) practically tosses the thing at Louis who’s smugly amused, elegant fingers sliding carefully over the sides. “Feels nice, Haz. Now let’s put it in the kiln.”

When that’s finished, (the Alpha sure as hell doesn’t let Louis anywhere _near_ that evil-looking-electric kiln, placing the clay-mug inside instead) the Omega smiles crookedly, “There, the tortures over, Hazza. Now we’ll have to come back tomorrow morning to paint her then _viola!_ We made a beautiful pottery babe.”

“Wasn’t torture,” the Alpha mutters though he’s fighting another grimace at the feel of drying-clay on his hands.

“Liar,” Louis says lightly, reaching up to tap his nose with one clayed-finger. “It’s okay, love. ‘S not for everyone–Liam absolutely _loathes_ it. But thank you for taking me.”

“Mm, thanks for showing me, kitten,” he murmurs, gaze falling to his mouth, desperate to kiss him, but knowing better, and instead linking their clayed-hands and leading the boy to the sink. Turning the tap on warm, the Alpha brings their hands under the warm torrents and douses them in too-much soap, sighing in relief when they’re both cleaned. Afterwards the Alpha takes a towel from the heating rack and dabs carefully at the streak on Louis’s forehead before scrubbing his own nose. As he’s already paid, he circles Louis’s waist in one arm, bringing him close, and breathing in his ear, “Let’s go outside.”

Against him, the Omega begins to wriggle a bit, almost _purposefully,_ and with his teeth clenched, Harry keeps his distance. “Are you trying to get me alone and murder me?”

“ _Ravage you,_ ” he growls playfully, starting them towards the exit, completely ignoring Niall’s, “YOU GO GET SOME MORE, LOU!”

Outside, Louis pouts. “What is he on about?”

“Who even knows?” the Alpha evades warily, watching the suspicion cloud the boy’s pretty features. Deciding it’s best to go with his original plan, Harry steps towards the buildings wall, turning Louis and kissing the corner of his mouth purposefully, whispering, “So, seeing as you’ve had your fun…I do believe I deserve the same.”

Dazed, blue irises drop to the ground. “E-Explain.”

“Come with me tonight,” Harry murmurs willfully, kissing him fully now, parting his lips carefully, dragging his tongue across the boy’s bottom lip; slowly, persuasively.

A breathy little noise in disagreement, then, “W-Where exactly?”  

“Mating ceremony. French Council–Tom Teasdale. Me and you, tonight,” he mutters, thoughts straying as Louis presses close, to kiss him back, but Harry’s not having it, tearing away for the moment, breath coming rough.

“Harry…” it’s almost a whine.

“Come with me,” he repeats quietly, letting his eyes slide shut, back to savoring the feel of Louis’s petal-soft mouth against his again.

“I…don’t belong there.”

“You belong with _me,”_ he snarls, realising the tone he’s taken when Louis flinches a bit. “You belong with me, Lou. And I want you there. Don’t make me find someone else to take,” he says softly, desperate because if Louis says no and he has to find someone else to take it’s going to look fucked up. It’s only to make him look unfaithful, and make Louis look like some one-week vacation fling.

“Are…Are you _threatening_ me?” Louis asks, incredulous, but not breaking the contact even so.

“No,” he all-but groans, bringing one hand to Louis’s waist, “’M not, I swear. It’s…. _fuck,_ I can’t go alone, Louis. It’s against tradition, for one to show up alone, offensive to the couple even. It’s supposed to be a happy-time, and in the words of the Council, lonely isn’t up to par. But…if you…I won’t go if you say no. I won’t go without you.”

Louis swallows, then breaks the kiss to shake his head, mumbling, “Why’re so sweet to me?”

Confused the Alpha goes to ask when Louis continues, “It’s obvious this is important to you. And honest, I can’t say no to you so we’re going to have to go, I suppose.”   _Thank fuck._

“Funny,” he murmurs appreciatively, “I feel the same. I can’t…say no to you.” _And when I manage it kills me a bit more inside._

“Power to the Omegas!” Louis throws up one fist, grinning up at him adorably now. “I wonder, would you let me–?”

_“Oui!_ _Voilà Harry Styles!”_

Talk about timing. Looking up, the Alpha realises they’ve caught some unwanted attention. And more appears to be coming by the phone-calls. Pissed, and disgusted, Harry glares, but his gaze softens when he finds Louis huddling close to him. So he murmurs, “Time to get back inside, apparently.

Sadness surges between them–from Louis. And the Alpha’s never hated his position in society so much. Which says a lot. “’M goin’ to lead them away.” There’s more voices now, calling his name, muted clicks of the cameras.

“But–,” Louis tries, but the Alpha kisses him, gentle and fleeting before opening the glass-door and dragging him inside. From there he barks, “Z, take him.” Startled the other Omega starts to ask but Harry gives him that _‘not-right-now’_ look, “Car keys?”

Once they’re tossed to him, Harry looks down to Louis, who’s quietly chewing on his bottom lip, looking thoroughly upset. Knowing he’s not going to see the boy again for hours makes him lose it a bit as he tips Louis’s face– _everyone has a damned weakness._ Pausing the Alpha’s mouth closes over the Omega’s, coercing his lips apart as his arms fold around his waist, crushing the little boy’s body against his own. _So warm, soft, made for me._ And he tastes perfect; sweet like the tea from before, and fuck does his soft moan taste better, makes the Alpha diamond-hard, but he tears away, breathing, “Don’t miss me too much, kitten.”

When he leaves the building one might think his Father was around because there are so many paparazzi, swarming, more than his presence is even worth. Then again, Harry’s more than sure he’s favoured by society. Mostly due to the looks. But, it is what it is. Instantly the Alpha ducks, rounding the more vacated corner of the street, blocking the flashes with one hand. And he knows now that there is no possibility of him returning to the penthouse this way; he’d have to relocate again if he does. Carefully as possible, he darts down another busy street, trying to fit into the crowd by staring straight ahead (keeping his head ducked is an instant giveaway) and it’s almost working.

But then, in French, “There he is! My God, Harry Styles in the _public streets of Paris!_ ”

Caught the Alpha grimaces, bombarded by tons of Omega’s of all age groups claiming to be his fans (yeah, right) and then the paparazzi arrives, throwing questions, mostly concerning his whereabouts, _Louis’s_ whereabouts. Like he’s fucking telling. 

“Harry! Harry!”

“Harry Styles! I love you!” _Flattering, honest._

“Can I meet your Omega? He looks lovely!” _Lovely beyond your perverted imagination, fucker._

“Where is he!?” _Not with you, obviously not with me, what a mystery._ Cute little rhyme, he thinks, fighting an altogether pleased smirk.

Fuck does Harry want to throttle someone, anyone of them will do. Louis is none of their business–that they seem to think otherwise makes his blood turn to ice and flood his vision in red.

“Louis Tomlinson is quite pretty, Harry! Where did you find him?”

At that the Alpha halts, then snarls in direction of the voice, almost telling the male to say one more fucking word about how “pretty” Louis is. Thinks he’d enjoy killing him.

_This might be a while._

 

**∞∞∞**

So many hours later, smelling thickly of perfumes and sweat the Alpha trudges into the penthouse, hair frizzed out, clothing madly disheveled, canines extended. The lights in the lounge are on, and the buzz tells him Louis is in there (probably alone judging by the lack thereof noise). Of course he’s right, finding Louis curled up on the couch, fingers roaming over one of his books, looking completely uninterested.

Groaning spectacularly Harry flops down some cushions away so he can spread his gangly legs, looking towards the clock to find it’s only six. Which gives him about an hour and a half to make himself presentable.

Amused, the Omega opens his eyes and snickers.

“ _’_ S not funny,” he mutters tiredly, dragging a hand down his face.

“But it is, Haz, it is,” he giggles, and it’s sort of infectious.

Harry grins sloppily at him, murmuring, “You’ve got quite the plethora of fans and admirers, kitten.”

“Says Mr. Popular,” Louis closes the book and tosses it carelessly to the floor, crawling over to him. With the proximity the boy recoils, “Hazza, ew! You smell… _hideous._ Too many scents at once, ugh.”

For affect the Alpha pouts, watching him through hooded eyes. “I was quite literally jumped this evening, kitten. Excuse me for stinking of a million or so Omega’s and who knows what the hell else.”

The ensuing scratch of jealousy leaves a raw, angry wound in Harry’s chest as the Omega’s blank stare turns electric. But then that gaze falls, and Louis’s bottom lip juts attractively in a pout. “You let them touch you?”

At this Harry gapes, mind registering what the Omega must be thinking. “No, I didn’t _let_ them touch me,” he bites back–he doesn’t take kind to be doubted.

“Still…”

When the Alpha reaches for him the boy shuffles backwards out of contact-zone, towards the far end of the sofa, still pouting, “C’mere love. Let me kiss you.” _Let me show you that you’re the only one._

“No. Keep that filthy mouth of yours to yourself, Harry Styles,” the boy sulks, turning his face away. Fighting a grin, Harry hefts himself up and goes over to that side, yanking Louis’s ankle so he’s on his back, stunned obedient by the sudden movement. Then he plants both of his hands on either side of Louis’s head, gazing hungrily at his parted lips.

As the Alpha lowers his weight his entire frame tenses and his cock strains at his zipper, the ache painful and welcomed at the same time. And he feels the difference in seconds, white-hot desire washes through him as Louis’s breathing comes quicker, shallow little pants, and his pupils dilate, becoming a thin ring of blue. He’s sure the boy’s pretty cock must ache for its first shocks of pleasure, but he can’t let himself think like that. Instead he brings their faces close, hovering over his sweet mouth, “Feel that, kitten?” he drawls slowly, their mouths barely brush but it’s enough to have his breath catching in his throat, “I don’t feel like this for any other Omega. I don’t want to put my mouth on them the way I want to put my mouth all over you.”

Beneath him Louis shudders, going pliant, and breathing, “Kiss me, Harry.”

“I don’t think so, little one. My mouth’s far too filthy. And I wouldn’t wanna dirty you.” With that he gets up and starts making his way towards the halls entryway, glancing over his shoulder at the Omega, who’s thrown an arm over his eyes, looking so soft, tempting. “Come on, kitten. We need to get ready and I need to wash away the residue.”

“I wanna be filthy,” Louis mumbles, sitting up slowly.

“No,” Harry snaps, “You don’t.”

“Fine,” the Omega shrugs, licking his lips, “Don’t ever try to kiss me again, Harry.”

At this, the Alpha pauses, gaze darkening. “Let’s go, kitten.”

“No,” he calls stubbornly. “Not moving.”

“Come again?” Harry asks threateningly, pivoting, jaw clenched.

“No,” Louis repeats.

Now the Alpha narrows his eyes, but the Omega simply pokes his tongue out in his direction, daring Harry to test him. Just like that he’s stalking towards him, but when he’s close enough the boy squeaks, grabs something hastily from the side-table, and splashes it at him. Gaping, Harry blinks rapidly as nearly clear liquid pours over him, curls dripping wet.

Louis grins sweetly, reaching forward to catch a drop (quite gracefully) on his index-finger, popping it in his mouth and sucking the droplet provocatively.

“Mmm,” he says casually as the Alpha stares in disbelief. Then he hoists his arms, the muscles flexing. “Oh, you’re gonna get it,” he shouts, but the Omega uses his height and build to his advantage, scrambling from the sofa and taking off. Like the first time they’d played this way, Harry’s instincts rage, and he’s at the boy’s heels in seconds, unable to help but grin when Louis squeaks again, almost running into a wall but missing it to enter the dining room.

“Stop! Hazza, you’re getting everything sticky!” he giggles, hands on the wall as the other ones extended to help him dodge the chairs.

“I don’t care!” Harry hisses, tossing the bloody chairs aside, barely hearing them crash to the floor.

“Hazza! Harry, c’mon, stop! I don’t wanna run into something,” he breathes, but presses on, once more around the table, tripping up a bit at the furniture rearrangement

“ _Never,_ ” he growls, catching his arm in the same second. And he yanks him back into his chest, but it’s so fast, and with the liquid dripping on the floor still, the Alpha slips, falling smack onto his back with Louis dragged along.

When his head meets the floor he grunts, “Shit. Fuckin’ hell,” then, “Louis, love, you okay? You gotta stop running from me. Somehow you're going to get hurt one of these days.

Louis laughs, hysterical as Harry blinks numbly, rubbing at his eyes, exhausted by the rush of emotions going through him. “You're always so worried! It was only a fall.”

Deathly serious the Alpha grips his arm. “Your safety is not a game, Louis.” Releasing him the Alpha leans against a fallen chair, listening to Louis’s laughter fade as he notices how solemn Harry really is, sighing sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” he whispers, cautiously nearing him. “I…I didn’t think you’d be so upset.”

Harry huffs indignantly. “Yeah, well ‘m over it now.”

“’M really sorry, Hazza,” he uses the nickname softly, trying to squirm into his lap, but Harry really is quite pissed and….damn him but he doesn’t want to get Louis sticky.

“Please, baby,” Louis breathes, scooting impossibly closer. Ignoring him, the Alpha rubs at his pounding head, wincing at bit.

“Haaarrrryyyy!” Still, no acknowledgement, though Harry’s rage has diminished with every soft call to him.

“Now who’s being mean,” the Omega mumbles, and there’s something so broken-hearted in his voice; it makes the Alpha want to hold him, shield him from any form of hurting. He doesn’t…yet. When the boy starts to stand the Alpha grabs his ankle, grinning wickedly, “You’re going to regret this, kitten,” he warns gently. And then his hands are crawling along the boy’s sides, tickling him. Louis shrieks with laughter, trying to escape, but he’s already a boneless heap on the floor.

“Harry, don’t!” he pleads, withering.

“You wanted to play!” Harry shouts playfully, reaching his soft belly. 

“Can’t…breathe…” Louis wheezes, still giggling, “Stop."

“ _Never!”_ And the Alpha means it, until Louis is whining, “Hurts! Hurts!” Then he finally ceases, grinning stupidly as he watches the boy curl in on himself with gulping breaths.

“You,” he pants, “need a shower…” smiling from the floor, cheek against the cherry-wood. “Did I mention how utterly smitten I am with you?” _Fuck, I’ll never get tired of hearing it._

Picking him up easily, the Alpha noses at his cheek, speaking quietly, “I always like to hear it.”

“I’m so smitten,” Louis whispers back, fingertips tracing over his cheekbone–everything around him sort of fades out as he stares, emotions rising up inside him, some combination of affection and admiration and adoration and all those sappy words he’s never associated with anyone else.

Swallowing past the uprising, Harry carries them upstairs; it’s when the Alpha’s going to head for the bathroom and shower that Louis breathes, “Hey…Haz?

Curious at the gentle, soft tone the Alpha looks at him. “Hmm.”

“I…I wasn’t lying the other night. You’re the only one I want,” he states, then darts out of the door, towards where Niall and Zayn’s voices float. And the Alpha wants to do some stupid shit like run outside and shout his Omega’s name over and over until everyone knows that Louis is _his._ Instead, he grins to himself, closing the bathroom door behind him.

 

∞∞∞

It doesn’t take long–well they’re _fashionably_ late, which Harry blames Louis, for daring to dress this way. Looking stunning with gelled-up hair (which looks quite attractive despite his preference for the fringe) dressed in a white button-up, the sleeves having been rolled up to his forearms, a black-collar, matched with black and white braces and Christ, those burgundy trousers hug his hips, his arse in ways that should be illegal.  Like this, all prettied-up, the Alpha can’t help but wonder if he’s in another pair of lace underwear, rather than pants. And his cock thinks he’s going to find out. The drive is quite a long one as well though so when they finally make it to the flashy, many-many-stories estate in the middle of Frances countryside, the Alpha isn’t surprised by the amount of paparazzi, the news-casts, and helicopters. The leeches know when to emerge from the waters and who to feed on.

There’s no avoiding them here. But it’s time enough, Harry thinks; best to get it over with.

Pulling up to the seemingly never-ending drive, following a sleek, black Porsche, the Alpha puts the Audi in park and leaves the keys for the chauffeurs, crossing over to the passenger side. Cameras begin to flash obscenely and though his Alpha growls to life inside Harry’s practised his expressions so it goes by unnoticed. Features void–tonight is going to be trying, but he’s already paved his emotions, leashed his Alpha–like this he is in his element.

Fingers trembling Louis grasps his hand and Harry helps him out gently, shielding his body from the camera. Shouts and screams explode at the sight of Louis, “LOUIS! LOUIS!”

Gasping at the outburst, the Omega balances himself on Harry’s shoulder, his other hand gripping Harry’s fingers, tight and more than a bit afraid. “Don’t be afraid, love. You look absolutely breathtaking. You _are_ breathtaking. And anyone who even looks at you the wrong way–,”

“You’ll ignore them,” Louis breathes under the chorus of questions, “Please. Let’s enjoy tonight. Wine and dine me proper, then take me home and–,”

“LOUIS! HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE CONSIDERED A TO-BE OMEGA OF ENGLAND’S COUNCIL!?”

“HOW DO YOU LIKE FRANCE, LOUIS?”

“Are planning on giving Harry heirs within the year, Louis!?"

At the last question the boy’s eyes round adorably. “Prying, aren’t they?” he whispers shakily, cheeks blooming with colour.

Grinding his teeth, the Alpha takes one deep breath then pastes a wide, jaunty smile for their audience, “They’re very invasive love. Ignore them." 

“Ignore them when they’re asking me if I’m planning to get _knocked up_ at sixteen?” Louis asks shyly, blush gaining beautiful colour. The cameras continue as Harry hooks his hand between his arm. “Are they implying I’m some sort of slut? Or worse! A criminal for trying to get knocked up before the Council’s blessings?”

“I hope to God not. Let’s just assume they’re sayin’ you look very fertile,” Harry decides dryly (knowing the boy can’t have gone through his first heat yet, seventeen is the average age for an Omega–fifteen for an Alpha’s rut) and smirking with pride when Louis giggles, smiling up at him and revealing those sparking forget-me-nots.

More shouts. “Louis! Louis baby smile for the camera!”

Startled the Omega turns his head towards the sound of his name and another round of flashes are set off. Defensive, Harry glares; Louis is _not_ that arseholes baby. Pulling the boy closer the Alpha makes sure his scent is there in his hair, on his skin, marking him the way Harry can’t officially do at the moment.

“Harry! Harry! Where’s Zayn?”  
“Harry, have you been blessed? Is this serious?!”

“Whatever happened to Taylor, Harry?” Of course they’d choose to bring that up, more than half-a-year later. To get a reaction from Louis, no doubt.

Unknowing the boy gives them what they want, frowning, and asking quietly, “Who’s Taylor?” Honestly, what is he too say? “ _Oh, she’s someone I used to know, beautiful Alpha, but not at all my type. Anymore.”_ Yeah, right, that’d surely go well (sarcasm noted) 

“She’s nobody,” Harry mutters, pulling them quicker towards the grand entrance, the other questions growing faint the further in they get. Inside, the magnificent chandeliers rain light everywhere, and Louis looks so perfect in them, hair shinning, darkened by the products. People are everywhere, Omega’s, Alpha’s and Beta’s alike, each paired on in groups, as it should be, happiness alight on their faces. Harry thinks he must look the same because he feels this brilliant orb of happiness within his chest, with Louis it’s always this way.

As they stroll around the inside of the great estate music lilts along the cascading decorations, all sparkles, which the Alpha assumes are Lou’s special touches–the female Omega has always had an eye for beautiful and arts. For quite some time they’re greeted by many other guests, handshakes and brief kisses and introductions exchanged. Each time the Alpha claims Louis to be his Omega; it’s met with the humour and acceptance on every other Omega’s face, (though there are those, Alpha’s and Omega’s alike, who look liked they’ve ate something foul– _ah jealousy)_ the awe in some Alpha’s, then the respect whenever Louis greets them secondly. It’s natural, posh and extravagant, Harry’s upbringing–which is why it makes him so fucking content that Louis is getting on so well here, because that means when the time comes he’ll do exceptionally well greeting _their_ guests at _their_ ceremony. Again, the idea of the future both excites and panics him.

At the end of the line of people wanting to be introduced to Louis, white-suited servers hold trays of glasses brimming with champagne, and Louis looks extremely grateful when Harry passes him a glass.

They approach the outdoors, where there’s a white arbour hung with smaller versions of paper-lanterns. Beneath it shines a bloodred and white checkered dance floor (many of these distance over the long, long estate) surrounded by low fences with entrances on each side (beyond that, in the way distance, there’s a massive, steel gate, where guards patrol, preventing the paparazzi or unwanted visitors from sneaking in). At each entrance stands two elaborate ice sculptures of swans, and some are greatly detailed sculptures of ballerinas of some sort. The arbour is occupied by a yard-long stage where a string quartet is playing softly (there’s the lilt), a beautiful piece that Harry can recognise, but not name. Hand-in-hand the Alpha leads Louis between the swans and onto one of the dance-floor where most guest’s congregate, chatting over glasses of champagne.

“The worst’s over,” Harry soothes quietly, watching Louis’s amused expression.

“This…isn’t what I expected,” he admits, then explains, “I thought everyone would be posh snobs, if I’m honest. But…they’re surprisingly pleasant.” _They’d better be, I won’t fucking stand for anything less._

“They’re fawning over you,” the Alpha breathes honestly, stroking his cheek with his knuckles. “They’re not so bad. They’re aristocrats, but they’re still people.  And nobody is able to resist your charms.”

Louis pulls his bottom lip between his sharp little canines. “You can. And you do. All the time.” _The effort exerted is phenomenal, rest assured._

“I have to. There isn’t any other option sometimes,” he murmurs quietly, gazing falling to his enticing mouth. Losing every breath to this lovely boy’s smiles, his wit, his amusement, his _soul,_ the Alpha is so enamored.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Louis whispers, all wide-eyed and flushed, shuffling closer. “If there are boundaries, I’m going to try to knock them down, you know?” _Don’t tell me things like that, I don’t deserve you._

At the persistent words the Alpha’s eyes slide shut, and his temperature spikes. They’re gaining more attention; stares are burning into them, but Harry couldn’t care less; unconcerned by them as he laces their fingers, pulling the boy closer until they’re close enough that he’s nosing at his cheek. Linked, their hands are held high, beside them, unbreakable by the most heated-stares, by the Council’s presence, “Don’t. Don’t say things like that, okay? You’re too young to be thinkin’ like that, kitten. Because when those boundaries are broken, Louis Tomlinson, that’s _forever–we’re forever._ Reckless abandon.” 

Now the Omega squeezes his hand, and the Alpha thinks _he’s so much stronger than I am. So much better. We could be everything…_ But then again, they won’t be everything because Harry’s too fucked, emotionally and mentally in ruins. “I know we’re too young to be thinking about forever but…I don’t really care, it doesn’t change my mind. You’re all I want. I want to be something to you. And I won’t stop trying until we’re _there,_ won’t stop ‘til you surrender.” _You’re everything to me already, silly boy._

So much emotion floods him–Louis’s: affection, warmth, longing, and Harry’s: admiration, fear, panic. Everything. So much– _too_ much. Choking him. Struggling to regain his composure the Alpha separates them, dropping their hands to open his eyes. It’s fleeting that he catches the eyes of one of the elder Alpha’s of the French Council, upon the third-story balcony overlooking the floor. There’s no expression on male’s aging face, but his eyes fall to Louis, then back to his, one eyebrow raised in question. Sneering, Harry blocks his view of Louis with his own body, forcing himself to ignore the pinning stare and raise his gaze elsewhere.

Towards the shoreline stands an enormous marquee, open on the side nearest to him the Alpha gets a glimpse of more formally arranged tables and chairs. “How many people are coming?” Louis asks quietly.

“I reckon more than a few hundred,” Harry answers, grinning when his eyes find the lengthy, lengthy table lined with flashy cakes and other sweet dishes. “Come, we’ve got another hour or so before the actual ceremony starts. These things always take an unnecessary amount of time.”

 

**∞∞∞**

                As his Alpha guides him, one reassuring palm splayed over his lower-back, the Omega tries to ignore the constant flood of conversation carrying over them. It’s crowded, but at least it isn’t chaotic, it’s soothing, laced with barely contained elation and excitement. And he absolutely adores this.

The air thins as they continue until the voices and the laughter is barely audible with the distance. They’ve slowed with the quiet, slowly…slowly… “Stop,” Harry murmurs, lips brushing Louis’s temple as he obeys.

“What…” Louis starts only to be interrupted.

“Mmm, I thought you might appreciate some sugar, with all this adjusting you’ve managed quite well but I don’t wanna push our luck,” the Alpha murmurs, leaning forward to whisper, “And I was tired of everyone stealing your attention.” It’s quite the opposite–with each introduction Louis’s attention remained on his Alpha; his voice, his scent, his words and their tone. “Tired of everyone ogling you.”

More affection wells up inside him as Louis shakes his head fondly. “You really do _always_ think everyone is ogling me or somethin’, Harry. ‘M not quite that desirable.” _Obviously, since you’ve not seem interested in anything more than platonic with me._

“That’s because _you are_ desirable, and that is why _every_ bloody Alpha’s beady eyes watch you,” the Alpha growls, but it’s more sulky now.

“Whatever sir says,” Louis murmurs sweetly, grinning until Harry sighs.

“There are quite a lot of treats here,” the Alpha trails offhandishly. “What to choose, what to choose…”  

“The most appealing,I'd suggest."

“They’re _all_ appealing, I’d say,” his voice is suggestive, teasing.

“Harry,” Louis whines quietly, fidgeting. “Quit teasin’ me.”

“Alright, fine, ruin the fun. Here, try this one,” blessedly Harry takes his relaxed hand and places a warm, paper wrapped pastry of some sort in it. Beaming, Louis begins to unpeel the wrap until it’s removed enough that he can take a bite. It’s an éclair, the Omega realises vaguely before the taste explodes on his tongue. And it’s the most heavenly éclair in all of France surely.

“Oh, my God,” the moan bubbles passed his lips without permission. Savoring the taste, Louis chews slowly, holding the pastry carefully.

“That good, huh? I want you to make that sound again, Lou, but for me. Could you do that, kitten?” without his noticing, Louis’s hand tightens until the filling ekes past his fingers and onto the floor. Oh, no.

A flush heats his entire face, but Louis manages to mumble, “This is so embarrassing,” deciding that the only way to avoid dying of mortification is to state the painfully obvious.

Grabbing his arm, the Alpha ushers him backwards, then murmurs, amused, “I suggest that we flee the scene.”

Louis feels the empty remains still in his hand, about to ask what to do with it when the Alpha continues, “Lower your arm. There’s a potted plant, right below. Drop it.”

Louis’s eyes go round. “No!” 

Leaning impossibly closer, Harry breathes, “I dare you.”

With the proximity, his head goes a bit fuzzy, but then he blinks rapidly. “I…No, I can’t–,”

“As far as naughty things go, kitten, this one is fairly mild,” he points out.

It’s a dare, and Louis is usually immune to such childish ploys, but the smile in Harry’s voice is difficult to resist. Scratch that, Harry Styles is difficult to resist period. “You’re going to get us shunned. But fine, have it your way,” he mutters, squaring his shoulders, lowering the hand and releasing the pastry. It lands in the soil with a muted, muted thud. As the Omega takes a step away his hand brushes something round. Curious, he touches once again, finds the citrus scent and thinks it’s probably a miniature orange tree. Used to applying his other senses, he’s fairly certain he’s correct.

“I didn’t think you’d do it,” Harry says, and the awed tone makes the boy’s heart flutter.

“Like you said,” he breathes, “It’s not terribly naughty.”

“No, but it is Lou’s favourite potted palm.”

“Harry!” Louis whirls around, intending to sink his hand right back into the plant and retrieve the éclair. “Why would you let me– _wait a second._ ”

Louis straightens now, narrowing his eyes for effect. “This isn’t a palm.”

And the Alpha is all innocence. “It’s not? How can you possibly tell?” Another challenge.

“I smell the citrus. And I have a very good sense of _smell_ thank you very much. This is some sort of orange tree.

“Is it, now?”

Louis scowls in his direction. Or at least he hopes it’s a scowl. It’s difficult to form expression that way, but it’s even more difficult to form them at Harry Styles. Even his Mum had once remarked that it’s nearly impossible to reprimand him. Why would Louis, foolishly in love, be immune to this? All the Alpha has to do is have that smile in his voice, seem contrite, and say something funny, and nobody can stay angry at him. It’s simply impossible.

“You were trying to make me feel guilty,” Louis accuses.

“Anyone could confuse a palm with an orange tree.”

Louis raises his brows. “Except for the oranges.

“Yeah, one would think they’d be a bit of a giveaway,” he replies thoughtfully.

“You’re also a terrible liar, did you know that?”

At this the Alpha straightens, making the movement that Louis has come to realise is a shrug. “Actually, I’m an excellent liar. But what I’m really talented at, kitten, is appearing appropriately sheepish and adorable after I’m caught. As I think you know.”

What, Louis wonders, is he supposed to say to that? Because surely there’s no one more adorably sheepish (sheepishly adorable?) than Harry Styles. “Might I remind a certain Alpha that he’s not so very cute?” _Utter lies._

“Well my Omega tells me otherwise. 

“He’s blind,” he murmurs dryly. _And biased–so desperately in love with you._

“And yet he’s the only one who _sees_ me,” Harry mutters darkly. At that Louis’s eyebrows furrow because what does that even _mean?_

Just as he’s about to ask a telling hush settles everywhere, and he can feel the difference in atmosphere, despite the lack of sound the excitement heightens. And there’s a low, dark voice announcing they’re to find their designated spots. Suddenly the Omega is very nervous, he’s never been to a place like this, never been…included in such a magical tradition, and now he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get the experience out of mind.  

“It’s going to be fine, Lou,” the Alpha murmurs, taking his hand and leading him towards the throng again. “You’re not going to regret this. I never have. And I hate shit Council events. But this…”

“’S so intimate, I hear,” Louis comments quietly, recalling the stories about mating rituals.

“It’s…beautiful.” 

Louis only wishes he could see it.

**∞∞∞**

When they’re seated the Alpha holds Louis’s hand beneath the table, but manages to focus most of his attention on the forefront theater. The only lights now are candles, a million or so scattered everywhere, on the borders of the altar. Cloaked-figures emerge, and there’s one steady outburst of gasps–the Alpha notices that Louis must feel the absolute supremacy from the Council leaders because it’s impossible _not_ to feel it.

From there each of them moves to form a spread. The middle Alpha’s voice floats out of his hooded robe and Harry can only get a glimpse of his stoic features. Which doesn’t even matter; hell, the male could have been glowing, demanding the attention, and Harry would still only have eyes for his Omega. His young, naive and entranced boy.

“Hear ye, all assembled before the Council. We have gathered herein to witness the joining of our heir and to be heiress…” when Tom emerges, straight-faced and grim. Nobody moves, looking star-struck though the male looks as he’s always looked, handsome, but robed instead (Harry reckons the male isn’t happy about that, Tom’s never gone by the Councils rules–hence his two year long wait for final blessings with Lou). As expected, Lou isn’t yet brought out.

“Your Alpha,” one of the males says, “Kneel, all.”

Rolling his eyes, Tom goes through the measures as expected, waving his hand out before the crowd, demanding “respect” though it’s halfhearted. Silently, the Alpha pulls Louis to his knees, who looks confused, and whispers, “Go with it. Bow your head.”

Then the Council representative continues, “Summon the Omega of choice, young Alpha.”

“I hereby summon the Omega who’s chosen _me,”_ Tom says, not giving one fuck that he’s going against tradition by claiming the Omega’s chosen _him._ Good on him, too. Even so, nobody dares to speak out or look, not even the Council members; though Harry’s sure they must be infuriated. Not permitted to look upon the female, everyone remains bowed for the moment.

And so the ceremony goes on, Tom and Lou murmuring the proper responses at the appropriate times. When the vows have come to a closing the Council pauses, then the French male goes on, “Holder, reveal yourself. The rest of the ceremony is to be yours.” And there are muted sounds of the Council Alpha’s removing themselves–probably going to watch from the balconies (it’s deemed unsafe for them to even be so close, they only appear to such rituals when it’s one of their own Alpha’s).

Turns out the Holder is English–he begins to speak in ritualistic tongue (one Harry’s memorized and preformed for others before), relieving the crowd of their duties as everyone rises to their feet, the Alpha brings Louis with him. One look at Lou and the Alpha can tell the female is struggling to hold it together. This is always the hardest part for the Omegas–and Harry can understand why.

Keeping the ritual in strides, the Holder makes a motion towards Tom and the Alpha shrugs out of his belt and robe–modesty has never been a problem for the Alphas in their society. As the Alpha kneels the Holder goes to stand behind him. There’s one pause as the other two Holder’s bring over a small table with a large bowl of salt and a pitches of water, and the second Holder stands beside the first.

The long, sleek dagger the Holder draws from the sheath is brilliant (the French’s signature animal fur covers the grip–England’s grip contains jewels)–some snivels start up. And it’s evident on Lou’s face that she wants to look away, but that would be insulting to the Council and her Alpha, so her glassy gaze remains fixed on Tom, whose head is bent. It’s evident that he’s grinning–there isn’t one Alpha that _doesn’t_ love this part, or love showing their strength to their Omega. Again, Harry can understand why.

Clearly the first Holder asks, “Tom, son of our Council, what is the name of your Omega?”

Grin wide, Tom says in a loud voice, no hesitance, “She is called Lou.”

The second Holder hands the dagger to the first, and together the two carve the first letter into the skin of Tom’s upper back. The male’s face is twisted, and he’s sweating, but he looks fucking _ecstatic._ Lou looks like she’s going to be sick– _poor girl._ Harry is quite proud of her for remaining quiet. The third Holder follows in suit, completing the name across his shoulders, letter by letter. Lucky there are only three–there are those who decide to mate an _Elizabeth_ or _Leonardo,_ but Harry thinks you can’t decide who you love or how long their name is. And Tom bears the pain with pride, not flinching once as he keeps his eyes on Lou, whose heart is in her eyes, face pale. 

The salt follows–arguably the worst part. There’s much blood, but continuous cleanings keeps it consistent. Until it’s over and he straights up, chillingly steady despite the wounds, staring at Lou who is now crying, hand over her mouth. The crowd is crying, too. But the Alpha agrees that this is one of the best ceremonies he’s witnessed, both Alpha and Omega worthy of their ritual. Tom’s back is rinsed with water and then cleaned and bandaged.

Then it’s Lou’s turn–the first Holder brings her over to Tom.

“Lou, now daughter to our beloved Council, what is the name of your Alpha?”

Voice clear, but high and shrilly, she answers, “He is called Tom.”

“Bring him unto us.” And Lou grabs his hand, and brings him forward, her red robbing flowing out behind her obscenely.

“Your love is pledged before the Council, before the witnesses. Your souls shall be one, connected for as long as you shall continue to live and onward.” _Jesus that must sound so fucking…life-changing or…something._

Tears are trekking down Lou’s cheeks as she smiles up at Tom who looks like the happiest Alpha alive–even besting Harry. “Claim your Omega before the Council, young Alpha.”

And this is the worst part to Harry–he loathes feeling so invasive, watching the most intimacies _exposed_ to those who should not be permitted to even _think of this._ Doesn’t think he’d be able to do it, to claim an Omega like this, in front of _everyone._ So instead he watches Louis as Tom brings Lou into his arms, as Lou bares her throat. _God._

Louis looks perfect in the candlelight–alright Louis looks perfect in _every_ light. But the candlelight sparkles and dances in his eyes. Eyes that remain unfocused, even glazed with tears. He looks like _he’s_ in love with this, looks like this is what _he_ wants. And suddenly that’s part of the many things the Alpha wants to give him. Damn it, he would give him the most proper ceremony…

There’s a gasp, a whisper-soft moan then chaos–applauds, crying, laughing, cat-calls. It’s finished–they’re official in the world of the Council and at the altar Tom is twirling Lou around, and the Alpha looks like he’s crying, face buried in his Omega’s throat. She pets him, despite being the one who’d received the bite, who’d been claimed only seconds ago, _she is soothing him,_ speaking softly, letting his chosen Holder’s come around him, placing their hands on his shoulders. _Brothers–Council brothers, fiercely loyal._

There’s a snivel from beside him and shocked, the Alpha glances at Louis, who’s scrubbing at his tears. “That…was s-s-so _beautiful,_ ” he fumbles, and Harry is so smitten by this, pulling the boy to him and murmuring, “It was. It was very beautiful. It always is.”

“T-They’re p-probably s-s-so _happy,”_ he cries softly. “It really _was…_ ”

“’S okay, love,” he whispers huskily, thinking about how Louis’d react to his own ceremony, wondering whether he’d cry or would Harry find himself as Tom did, crying into Louis. “I know.”

Once the chaos settles, the songs being to flow again, and though Lou and Tom aren’t allowed to dance, as Lou isn’t supposed to be in feet distance of other Alphas, they’re adamant about everyone else dancing. So, when Tom flashes him a cheery thumbs up, Harry rolls his eyes, and decides to honor their wishes, being the first one to bring Louis to the middle of the dance-floor and start the first dance, it’s a waltz, which worries him. But they can do this one. Someone has to start it.

“Seems we’re doin’ a bit of a dancin’ lesson, kitten,” he murmurs, distancing them some with slow movements to bow, grinning wickedly at Louis’s look of confusion. When he extends his hand, the Omega seems to know to do that same, but the Alpha still takes his hand, rather than Louis thinking _his_ as is the original routine. As he walks them slowly, others join beside them, which greatly relieves him as their waltz is going to be fumbled and mediocre, because Louis’s never learnt, and can’t _see_ what’s supposed to happen around them.

“What are we _doing?_ ” the boy hisses at him though a smile is fixed on his face.

“We’re learning to waltz,” Harry murmurs as he distances them and bows again, not bothering to watch their neighbors do the same. The musical notes rise and the Alpha doesn’t leave an inch between them (as is appropriate, but fuck it) placing Louis’s right hand exactly below his shoulder-blade, then bringing his right hand to the exact place, extending their arms and linking this fingers. From there he twirls them once to the beat, keeping in mind the steps ( _one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four…_ ) as Louis goes with his steps, pale and horrified. “’S only a waltz, kitten. I’ve got you. Just follow my steps.” Then he takes them backwards again, using Louis’s shock to his advantage to spin him into his side, then whispers, “Spin the other way.” Obedient, the boy does so, but while the other’s let their partners meet the next, Harry holds onto Louis, ignoring the girl he’s supposed to continue with, to bring him back in, then starts their movements around the floor. It’s effortless to him, but his Omega looks terrified, as he twirls him around, and the instant they’re close again he breathes, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Follow me.” Now the opposite direction, spinning Louis, who seems vaguely dizzied, pulling him back again, one more step, then still spinning, Harry lifts him, so relieved that Louis doesn’t let go. Another twirl, another lift, opposite direction, swings him out, twirls him in, and brings him back to start again.

“This is _making me dizzy,_ ” Louis mumbles, breathless–the music gains histrionic speed as the circles continue.

“Give it eight minutes.” _Fuck, I rather love this dance._

“Eight…” he twirls him again, then grins when the Omega gasps, “ _minutes?!_ ”

“It’ll be…” another twist, “quick,” he finishes. “Worst part is the hands. But that’s all me.”

“I’m…going…to _kill you._ ”

“’M doing all the work,” he reminds, a bit winded as he makes his turn round, linking their hands from where he is behind now, moving them clockwise, then spinning himself so they’re side by side, hands still intertwined, into the chorus movements again. The music shifts, swells losing height as Harry releases Louis’s hands, then stands straight to bow again, watching amused as Louis blinks. Before the Omega can even think to act, he grabs his hand again, though before the routine worsens, Harry twirls them stealthily from the circle.

On the edge of the dance-floor, they stop and when the Alpha releases him, Louis catches his breath. “That was…horrible.”

“You did wonderfully,” he compliments because it’s _true,_ though he’d been confused, he’d trusted Harry’s movements, gone with each of them gracefully as possible. Honest, it’s the best dance he’s had in a while (his last was at that ball in Wales with that one Omega whose name he can’t even manage to remember, nor does he _want too_ after that dance. Jesus he’d trampled on Harry’s feet and practically _pushed him onto the dance floor,_ to which the Alpha found himself flattened in the middle of the circle. _Horrific,_ couldn’t begin to describe that dance.)   

“No, I didn’t,” Louis shakes his head, lowering his eyes shamefully.

Sighing the Alpha hooks to fingers underneath his chin and murmurs, “When I was learning the waltz…my ah Father, he taught me, so it was quite awkward because I’d had two left feet, still do, but the movements are ingrained now. So, ah, anyway, I was obviously learning both the part of the Alpha and Omega, so my first time as the Omega, I was twirling, like you were, right? And there was an entire team of us. I lost my footing, tried to regain the balance on someone’s trouser’s, effectively pulling down one blokes slacks and taking the entire team down. Christ, it was so _shit,_ Lou.”

“You _didn’t,_ ” Louis asks, wide-eyed, but he’s holding back laughter. Though it makes his skin crawl, talking about these times (because he’s _never, not once_ told _anyone_ –not even Zayn about his dancing lessons), the Alpha will happily tell Louis his most inner-secrets (and look like an utter dickfaced dolt doing it) to have the Omega smiling again.

“I did. And I’d taken my Father down with me. Therefore, as I’d black-and-blued the entire right side of my face, I wasn’t allowed to learn the Omega’s part again. I don’t even know how to perform the part, Lou, and that you managed on your first try is phenomenal. 

“Yeah?” the boy breathes, revealing those blank blues.

“Yeah,” the Alpha says, hushed as the waltz comes to an end.  

Louis smiles, then leans, plastered against his chest, petal-soft lips brush over his throat, then his jaw. “’M sorry that happened to you, Hazza. We can dance again and you can learn the Omega’s part with me if you want,” he offers, genuinely worried that Harry’s upset he didn’t get to learn the Omega’s part.

Not wanting to hurt his feeling, the Alpha hums. “Thank you, love. But why don’t we dance now?”

“Not the waltz?” the Omega asks worriedly.

Laughing the Alpha starts them back onto the dance-floor, “Not the waltz. Just slow dancing.” As they’re joined by others Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. Many eyes follow them, cameras haven’t stopped flashing since the finishing of the ritual, but now the eyes of other Alpha guests fall to Louis, obviously wanting to dance with him. And the Alpha all but threatens to tear their throats out with his glares–it’s effective as nobody approaches them. So that’s when Harry thinks it’s safe to tease Louis, murmuring lightly, “Oh, love. You’re attracting so much attention. So many suitors so soon. Hmm, let’s see, who shall dance with you next…Could it be boring, poker-player, Dillion Williams? Or will it be stocky, filthy mouthed Fabrizio? The possibilities are endless.”

“You let me go, Styles,” Louis threatens, going along with his movements. “And I’m goin’ to take Harriet and leave you. Proper disappearance.” _I’d find you, kitten. I won’t let go for fucking Dillion or Fabrizio or any other idiot out there._

Rolling his eyes, the Alpha murmurs quietly, “I want a Louisa, next, I think.”

Louis makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “Oh, God, no. No daughter of mine is going to be called Louisa, Styles.” _Louisa Styles. Harriet Styles._ Nope, the Alpha thinks, those will certainly _not do._

“What about son’s then?” he asks, all Alpha blood roaring in his ears, and even knowing he shouldn’t continue this conversation, he’s unable to help it–his cock is so hard now, with the thought of how he’d get Louis pregnant. _Oh Jesus._ “Do you want any boys?” he asks huskily–he’s never had _any_ pregnancy kinks, _fuck no,_ but everything is special with Louis, his Alpha reacts to the boy so forcefully it’s dangerous, makes him think stupid shit, like getting him pregnant. There it is again, that fucking word that makes his breathing rough, heat waves radiating from his body.

“Well I mean sons are necessary, yeah?” he asks, voice barely a breath, “You need heirs.” _God, I really fucking do, right now–knock you up so good, sweet boy, get you on my knot and fill you up until I know the deeds done._

Movements faltering, Harry curses viciously even though Louis giggles, “It makes you uncomfortable when I say those things, doesn’t it?”

Intuitive as the boy is, it’s ironic that he misses that the discomfort is buried really damned deep by the desire that makes his heart pound, that he misses how hard he is, almost against his belly, thinking about getting him pregnant. When he speaks again, his voice is gravelly, “What makes you think that?”

Louis giggles again, “Your voice gets all scratchy and you miss a beat. You hardly miss beats that way–you’re always quick wit. Except when ‘m talkin’ bout pups. Don’t worry, Hazza, ‘m not hoping for children. In fact I don’t think I am going to have any. No Harriet’s or Louisa’s or any other ridiculous names.” Fuck. That.

“You’re having babies, Louis,” he snaps, tightening his hold on him. Inside his Alpha is furious and it’s making him uncomfortable–he doesn’t want to make the wrong move or hurt the Omega. But his Alpha…his Alpha is still dangerous to him.

Against him the Omega hums, then shakes his head. “No ‘m really not.” 

“Yes,” he growls, turning them once more, teeth grinding. “You really fucking are.” _You’re having all my pups, every single one._

 _Dread._ As the boy stumbles a bit, the Alpha is doused in his dread. And he wants to demand the reason behind that emotion, surely having his children isn’t something–

Someone taps his shoulder. On the defense, all Alpha instinct, Harry halts, bares his teeth, and focuses on the idiot who’d interrupted. And is more than shocked stupid to see Tom standing some feet beside them. The male’s changed, the robe is gone, replaced with a tux, and beside him Lou looks much the same, hair coiled at the crown of her head, dressed in a shimmering bloodred gown.  

Together they’re a sight–in the middle of the bloody dance-floor.

“Tom?” he mutters. “The fuck are you doing down here? You know that’s against–,”

“Oh, screw the tradition, the deeds been done, the Council has no control over me any longer. And honest, this is the twenty first century, are you _honestly_ going to try to break my bond with Lou? No. Didn’t fuckin’ think so. So take the piss, Styles, and congratulate me already,” the other demands, smirking.

Sighing at the familiarity, the Alpha all but hugs the other male, mindful of his wounds, murmuring, “Congratulations, mate, this is…a blessing to the French Council. Make us proud.”

“Years worth the waiting. Don’t worry, H, ‘ve totally got the whole mated-life down by now,” Tom murmurs, as Harry grins at Lou now, “Congratulations, lovely girl. Keep ‘im on a tight leash. And make sure the UK realises the Omega’s are the brains behind the Council.”

She grins winningly. “Oh, don’t worry, I will.” Then her warm gaze finds Louis, “Is this him?” she almost shrieks. Louis looks extremely uncomfortable, huddling close into his side.

“He’s so gorgeous! Hello, Louis! You’re gorgeous! I can see what all the fuss is about!”

Louis’s blank stare follows the sound of her voice and he smiles shyly. “H-Hello, Lou. Congratulations. I wish the best to the both of you.” _Tamed kitten–not sure which I like best, tamed or feisty._

“Awe! And he’s sweet, too!” she gushes, then pulls his Omega into an exceedingly warm embrace. Too soon. “You’re next, I reckon, _ma chérie._ You must contact me and I shall orchestrate the entire ritual–traditional, like H fancies. You won’t regret it.”

“Lou, you’re petrifying the poor lad. Let ‘im go.”

“Shut up, Tom,” she shoots back in French, then to Louis again, “It’s very lovely to meet you. All of the United Kingdom’s talking about the Omega who’s captured our prized Alphas heart. And _I_ have the great honour to meet the one and only.” _Captured my…heart…?_ Had that happened? Is that what’s going on? He blinks. Wonders how one is meant to know. Thinks since he’s questioning it, he’s not there yet. But it won’t be long, that much he can admit…because he’s thinking about _their_ mating ceremony, _their_ pups, _their_ house, Louis, Louis, Louis. Always _Louis._

Carefully the Alpha watches Louis’s expression–his cheeks warm, and he swallows, “L-Likewise.”

“Enough,” Harry murmurs, warning Lou with his eyes, but she’s always been immune to warnings (rather like…Niall. Well it’s no _wonder_ they’ve gotten on so well for ages) and rolls her eyes back at him. Still, she releases Louis. “This is your night, Lou. Best make the most of it.”

“Oh, I will,” she murmurs coyly, eyeing Tom up and down. “But much, much later. In the privacy of my bedroom.” _Trust me, I’ve been wanting the same privacy with my boy._

Tom coughs. “Well then. Would you fancy a dance, Louis? I fear that I’m monopolizing my Omega.”

Though the Alpha doesn’t want Louis to leave his side, it’s Tom, and he needs to breathe again, to stop thinking with his cock. So, he takes a deep breath and pastes a wide grin on his mouth, “Go ahead, love. I’ll be waiting.”

And so Tom takes Louis’s hand and leads him further into the crowd. When the Alpha takes Lou’s hand, she grins, “He seems lovely, Haz. Honest, I’m put out that you’ve kept him from us so long. When Tom told me ‘bout him, _and you didn’t, which I ought to claw your eyes out for that,_ I assumed it was one of those months-wasted-causalities.”

“You’ve come to a different conclusion?” he asks, spinning them again.

“Yes. He’s special,” she murmurs gently. “I can see it in the way you look at him. I’ve never seen that look on you before. He means something to you.”

“Yeah,” the Alpha agrees, coming to the same, chilling conclusion. “He really does.”

When the music shifts and changes Tom returns Louis to him. Louis is blushing hotly, but the buzz tells him the Omega’s been amused and charmed the entire time. Instantly the Alpha tucks Louis into his side, tipping his face and asking, “Have a nice dance?”

Louis nods timidly, then whispers, “He’s very…kind.” And that’s the last adjective Harry’d use to describe Tom…but it’s also up there at the top ten. Ah, the contradictions.

“Well then, I’ve gatta win back your affections,” he decides firmly, wrapping his arms around Louis’s waist and grinning around at Tom and Lou, “Congratulations again. But I’m claiming every upcoming dance from here on out. Enjoy yourselves tonight and so on.”

Winking, he starts their next dance, spinning Louis round, who is beaming, “Win back my affections?”

“Yes,” he murmurs unfalteringly, pulling him against his chest.

“There’s nothing to win then as you have them all. You always will,” the boy promises and Harry shuts his eyes, but doesn’t answer, continuing their dance instead, slow and affectionate and everything no other dance as ever been.

Two more numbers they dance when the Alpha realises his phones been vibrating in his pocket for an hour and sighs, leading Louis away from the dance-floor and to the arbour, where it’s relatively quiet with everyone dancing and mingling inside. Then he pulls out his phone, finds its Niall demanding Louis.

Growling under his breath the Alpha hands the Omega his phone, whispering, “Just can’t escape the little twat. Stay right here. I’ll go grab us drinks.”

Smiling appreciatively, Louis nods and then hisses into the phone, “What now, Ni?!”

**∞∞∞**

 

“Thought you deserved to know, Lou,” the Irish boy states softly, from the other line–right now, Louis feels so angry, so alone and _hurt,_ but the rage is palpable–a dark entity threatening to choke him. And he’s never been so grateful because angry is better than anything else, so he’ll cling to this anger that’s now his life-boat. Anger is warranted. Even so tears sting behind his eyelids, and his hand comes across his belly protectively as he mumbles, “’S okay, Ni.”

“No, Lou, it’s not,” Niall disagrees–exactly what Louis doesn’t want to hear right now. “It’s okay to be angry. I’d be fuckin’ pissed. I’m sorry, babe.” _Me too–it’s really my fault anyway._

Louis laughs mirthlessly, moving his hand to cover his stupid eyes now, mumbling, “Nothing new, Niall. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

“Lou, wait, don’t hang up yet. I know you’re thinking that Harry doesn’t–,” but he’s not interested in hearing it.

“See you in a bit, Ni,” and then he fumbles along with the phone and presses some button at the top, hoping it ends the call. Then he takes in a few calming breaths, each one only works to make it that much more difficult to breathe at all.  But he refuses to break down here, not in front of more than a hundred curious gazes, and even more cameras. No, he can handle this...God Louis hopes he can handle this.

It isn’t even seconds later that Harry’s returned, one large hand grabbing his arm. “What’s wrong?” he asks, and Louis suddenly _hates_ how the Alpha always seems to know whenever something is wrong. _Can’t his feelings just stay with him alone, just for a while?_

At the contact there’s some rush he can’t begin to describe, paining pressure building in his head as he winces, feeling cold. “Nothing,” he mumbles, holding his phone out, “Here.”

Through careful movements the Alpha takes back his phone, then sounds extremely serious, “Did I do something wrong?” _No, it was me, it’s always me._

Louis shrugs, keeping his eyes low towards the floor, grateful for once that he can’t see the way Harry’s looking at him right now. “I’m tired,” he hears himself say. “I want to go home.”

“You’re going to eat first.” Always commanding–right now the Omega doesn’t think the Alpha even has the right to boss him about. Not when he’s keeping him around for the entertainment of it–was it all a game? he wonders numbly. _Let’s see how long it takes the stupid, blind Omega to fall for me._ It’s such a cruel thought. But it’s one that crosses his mind nonetheless, and he can’t be sorry about it.

“I’m not hungry,” he says quietly, wondering how this conversation even started. All he seems to remember is that he’s unwanted and he’s stupid, and he’s still in love. All those things he longs to forget. “I want to go home.”

“Too bad,” the Alpha snaps, then he’s dragging Louis through the crowd and all but forcing him to sit. After barking orders to someone (a servant?) and some minutes of silence (despite the noise of those around him) and Louis fiddling with the tablecloth, there’s a plate set before him. “Now, Louis,” the Alpha murmurs stiffly. Without raising his gaze, Louis fumbles with the silverware and starts stabbing whatever is on the plate. It’s chicken or something but he doesn’t even taste it, simply eats methodically, taking small sips of the sweet-tea set beside the pale until he’s feeling queasy and can’t eat any more. Without permission, he sets the silverware down.

“More,” Harry commands. _More._

“More,” Louis repeats quietly, the word shoots sharp spikes of rage through him and he’s _seething_ again. Raising his useless eyes, the Omega holds them steady even as his hands shake. “You can ask for more, constantly. And I can’t ask for more of what _I_ want. Why is that?”

A draft seems to emit from the Alpha, who tenses, “What. Are you talking about?”

“Like you don’t know,” Louis hisses, blinking back tears. “You _really_ are a good liar, Harry. Honest, feel proud of yourself because you really made me think that we were _serious,_ and that you wanted me the same as I wanted you. Like I hadn’t thrown myself at you to be rejected _again._ ”

“Wanted? Past tense?” Of course that’s what he’d worry about.

“Past _tense,_ ” Louis lies, knowing he’s still absolutely in love. “I really _hate_ liars.” Which is true, he _does._

“I never _lied,_ ” the Alpha growls, there’s some warning in his tone as he continues, “And if I did it was a lie of omission.” _Still a lie–sort of like our “relationship”._

Louis swallows. “Why did you bring me here tonight? I-If you wanted to be friends, then w-why didn’t you just say so?” With the question realisation dawns on him…the Alpha _had_ said so, at the very beginning, _“I want…to be your friend._ ” Friends. And the Omega thinks _he’d_ been the one to push for more, and he’d gotten all the wrong messages, and it’s no wonder the Alpha always stopped every one of his pursuits. He’s made it perfectly clear…Even as these thoughts come over him, Louis thinks his heart’s breaking, thinks he can _feel it crumbling,_ as his Omega is in denial, refusing to believe the painfully obvious (because Harry’d _kissed him,_ and let Louis kiss him, all the time, and claimed him, and said sweet things to him). It makes no sense.

“We’re not talking about this here,” the Alpha breaks his thought-process and his voice sounds strange, tormented or something. “Will you _stop doing that?_ ” he snaps, hand gripping his wrist, almost to the point of pain. “Stop. It.”

“Stop _what?_ ” he manages, tugging at his wrist pointlessly; he’s nowhere near as strong as Harry.

“Stop. Stop feeling like that. You…stop it. And _breathe,_ for Christ’s sakes.” Though he wants to fight him, Louis can’t help but inhale, relieved that the tinges of lightheadedness fade. But it still hurts, and he wants to curl into a ball to keep his heart or his lungs from falling apart. _Why can’t I be what you want?_

“This is _your_ f-fault,” he breathes, close-to-tears, too close. Hurts.

“That’s it,” Harry snarls, “We are going _home.”_ Finally. Without warning the Omega is being yanked out of his seat, and the Alpha is already storming through the crowd, Louis one step behind him (not that he could be anywhere else, seeing as how Harry’s hand is wrapped tightly around his upper-arm.) And he wants to kick him, slap him, bite him, and make him hurt on the outside as much as he’s hurting on the inside–except he remembers something.

Louis digs in the sole of his shoes, skidding along as Harry drags him along, not seeming to notice. “Harry,” he whispers frantically, knowing they’re making a scene already. “Harry!”

“Shut up, Louis.” _Arrogant, stupid Alpha._

“Please. I really think– _ouch!_ ” his skidding shoe hits the ending edge of the floor, sending him stumbling forward.

Catching him neatly, the Alpha sets him on his feet again. “What. What is so bloody important right now?” That tone makes his Omega cringe.

Louis swallows; terror floods him at the idea of going outside like this.

“Louis…” the Alpha prompts impatiently.

“I…D-Don’t make me go o-outside like this,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…” _Am going to be humiliated._

“Too bad,” Harry mutters, brutal in ways Louis’s never heard from him. He flinches. Then his first tear runs down his cheek, and he dashes at it furiously, but more follow until he’s almost completely bawling. Sighing in exasperation, the Alpha continues on, doesn’t seem to care much as Louis cries, stumbling along. But then they stop, somewhere quiet and veiled and arms come around him carefully, the touch cautious ( _friendly almost)_ as Harry murmurs, “Breathe, Louis. No more tears–no more, understood? What’s the reason for the tears? Talk to me.”

And even pissed and hurt and betrayed the Omega can’t say _no_ to him. “T-They’re g-going t-t-to take _pictures!_ A-And I-I’m such a mess. I’m s-s-so _angry,_ and u-upset,” he manages between unsteady breaths, even as Harry wipes away the last of the tears gently.

“Hush now. Don’t worry about the pictures, Louis; I’ll take care of it. Give me a second.” When he’s afraid the Alpha’s going to leave, Harry simply tightens one arm around his waist, running soothing patterns into his shoulder as he snaps words in French at whoever he’s on the phone with. Then, “Alright, it’s taken care of. Come, we need to leave now.”

Without another word, huddling into Harry’s side, Louis keeps his head ducked as he’s led outside. There the Omega braces himself for the onslaught of shouts and calls…but there’s…nothing. It’s so…quiet. So quiet that grateful tears pool in his eyes. _Maybe he does care, Lou, maybe you’re blowing this out of proportion._ “How…?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’ve got about five minutes before they’re back,” the Alpha mutters, opening the car door, “Come on, inside then.”

The silence that follows is airless–there’s no radio to drown it out, and Louis keeps his eyes shut, tries to ignore the way the Alpha remains silent and focused on the road. Hours pass with no words spoken until the car comes to a halt and Louis opens the door to stomp in the direction (he hopes it’s the right direction) of the penthouse, seething again, ignoring Harry completely. Of course he’s by Louis’s side in moments, but the Omega continues to ignore him. And he doesn’t know what he’s going to do? But he knows what he’ll _have to do_. Because he’s so angry and hurt, so much that he’s not even sure what he’s angry about–there’s so much.

When the Alpha gets the door open Louis storms in first, and stops in his tracks when Harry asks, “So friends?”

Louis whirls around, forces the words, “Apparently that’s all we are. All we can be.”

“Where did you get that from?” he asks tightly, by the sound of it, he’s still in the doorway. Louis can’t breathe–the breaths come uneven and forced and he’s so close to hyperventilating.

“You don’t want me,” he whispers, trembling fingers fumbling to remove the braces at his trousers. “You’ve m-made it clear enough. So I’m…calling it quits. We’re friends–b-because I can’t give you what you need without hurting myself, and y-you can’t give me…what I want.” _Please don’t let this be true…_

Not wanting to listen to the confirmation, Louis starts down the hall, trying to ignore the sound of Harry’s pounding footsteps, following him. With each step the Omega’s managed to remove the braces, he’s yanking harshly at the collar of his shirt when Harry murmurs, “We’re not friends, Louis.” _Please, I’ll take something over nothing–I love you too much to not have some part of you. For me. Some part of you for me._

Louis continues, shutting his eyes to veil the pain, pretending for the moment that the Alpha is talking to someone else. Not him.

“LOUIS.”

And the Alpha resonance in the word makes Louis’s steps falter. “Why!? Why can’t we be friends at least?” he exclaims, turning to face him again, desperate because he can’t lose Harry completely. He’s so scared now. So, so scared that this is the end for them, it _feels like the end._ “I won’t ask you to give me _anything!_ I promise! God, Haz–Harry, you said you weren’t letting me go. Please,” he breathes, frantic, too in love, getting the collar out of the way to start at his right shoe, avoiding raising his eyes. “Please. I’ll find someone else. I promise. Just don’t leave me, please.”

“No.” One serious, chillingly final answer that breaks him inside. Struggling to breathe around the loss, the Omega embraces the storm of rage, grabs his right shoe, and throws it at the Alpha with everything he has. Somehow it manages to hit-home too because there’s a muted thud, a furious _“fuckin’ hell!_ ”

Louis knows he’s going to be in so much trouble for that, whirls around, and runs as fast as possible for the stairs.  Of course the Omega doesn’t make it because then he’s being pinned to the wall, one, large, angry hand prying his legs apart so that Louis has no choice but to wrap them around Harry’s waist, not that he would have objected. Not that he ever could. But then strong arms are holding his body weight, holding him up against the wall, and the power exudes from his Alpha makes Louis’s blood sing in his veins, runs thrills through his entire body. In response a shiver travels down his spine, and his insides clench, trousers becoming tighter because he’s throbbing down there now. Needs _more–_ hates his traitorous Omega body for this, hates that his stupid, achingly attractive Alpha has this effect on him even now.

“What…are you doing?!” he asks, trying to keep the anticipation, the breathiness from his voice. But not only does his voice tremble, but his body’s starting to as well, helpless to it.

“We are not friends,” Harry growls, the Alpha rampage tone of voice, dangerously quiet, menacing, and meant to get his point across. “God fucking damn it, we are NOT FRIENDS!” he shouts, and Louis’s mouth parts–he’s never heard Harry raise his voice at him before, but the sound makes his Omega whine, submitting as scalding desire floods his veins, burning him from the inside out. “You’re _mine–_ and I was trying to protect you from this,” he brings them impossibly closer and Louis can’t breathe anything but the potent dark spices and Alpha and _oh, God._ “Now I can’t…And I don’t think I want too.”

“Then don’t,” Louis breathes, squirming against him, trying to tempt him, break the restraints. “Please, I want this. Want you.”

**∞∞∞**

As the Alpha holds Louis up against the wall the blaze of anger breaks into an uncontrollable wildfire, smothering almost every inkling of the sanity Harry’s tried so hard to maintain. Fuck, he’s _known this,_ known the irresistibility of Louis this way; flushed with rage, cobalt irises glowing like lanterns, more alive and electric than ever.  It’s his Alpha, pure instinct to have his Omega scratch at him, bite him, _fight_ him, make him _work for it,_ until feeling the electric draw of pain as he pleasured him. It’s animalistic, and it’s driving him _mad._

And the boy’s eyes flutter shut, lashes barely-visible lines against his fragile skin. “Please, I want this…Want you,” it’s so soft; the anxiety in his voice almost undoes him. Christ, he’s never fucking touched an Omega without knowing they’d wanted him too, usually more than he’d wanted them, but this is Louis, and he doesn’t have any fucking clue how much he’s wanting. Testing, the Alpha slides one of his hands down to the boy’s soft waist, fingers careful, gentle, tugging his shirt from his trousers, flatting his palm on the soft skin of his side. Though those eyes remain closed, the Omega shudders against him, relaxing–permission enough.

Lurching forward, Harry’s mouth comes down on his. And that’s it. All the self-control he’d exerted over the last months went, like water crashing through a broken dam. Louis’s arms come up around his shoulders, and there’s no distance between them, the boy is soft, plaint and warm against him. Though one hand holds Louis up, the other rises to caress the bared skin of his slender throat, and he can’t wait to fucking put his mouth there. Mark him up. _Fuck, everybody’s going to know you belong to me._ But for now the Omega’s kissing him as fiercely as Harry’s mouth is claiming those petal-soft lips. And his tongue runs along those lips now, opening the boy’s mouth under–he tastes fucking beautiful, sweet and fresh and _his._ Urgent, he lets his mouth tell Louis what he can’t say out loud: _I think I love you; I am probably so fucking in love with you and it’s scary; I’ve never been so afraid in my life. You’re not allowed to be with anyone else. You’re not allowed to want anyone else, or go with anyone else. You’re mine–be with me. Want me. Stay with me._

 _I don’t know how to be without you anymore._  

But those thoughts don’t matter because he’s on _fire,_ his rut rising everywhere, making him growl against the boy’s mouth, bringing his hand around to his thigh, tugging his leg higher, spreading his legs more; more access, more, more, more. Rocking forward the Alpha’s exactly when their cocks have made contact, feels the pressure _everywhere,_ as Louis jerks, whines high in his throat and fists his curls, squirming closer. Seeking more.

Like this, between his legs, the Alpha rocks slowly, carefully, listening to every gasp as his hands slides down to his waist again, holding them impossibly closer, lost in the sensations that spiral through his nerves and blood and bones. And he has no idea what he’s to do or say next, but he knows stopping will feel like cutting his own skin open. 

A soft, soft vibration passes through Louis as his head tilts, baring his throat–Harry hisses, catching his own scent there, so much thicker with his need to claim, but the light fragrance of Louis is there, sweet, rainy and fresh. “Kitten, you smell so fucking _amazing_.” With the words his hips grind against the boy’s again, holding him still as the Omega tries to meet his movements.

“Haz,” Louis breathes, sounding so needy; the heat flashes through the Alpha, straight to his cock at the sound of his name on the boy’s mouth. As to distract him, Harry thrusts his tongue hard and demanding against the Omega’s, consuming him. “Please. Please, please, please…”

But with every plea the Alpha slows down until one hand is holding the boys hips completely motionless. And his mouth has softened too. “Kitten,” he nearly groans. “It’s takin’ me a lot of control to not…” the words trail as the Omega, taking advantage of his crazed-state, wriggles against him provocatively, whining softly. “Don’t. Don’t make me rush this.”

With one last shudder the Omega stops moving against him, pulls the hands in his hair to bring their faces closer, doe-eyes fluttering open as he breathes, “Don’t stop. Take me.”

_Take me._

“Bedroom,” he growls, because surely someone’s going to come to investigate the noise. And then the Alpha will tear their throats out for trying to make him stop. Because he’s not going to stop. He can’t. “We’re not doin’ this here. Bedroom.” Without any care, the Alpha kisses him again, fast, sucking on his bottom lip seconds in before tossing him over his shoulder, because it’ll be quicker without the distraction. Though the Omega is giggling, squirming sexily, then kicking his legs. Christ, he can’t even bring himself to care or play along because then he’s slamming their door shut (too hard, the bloody noise will certainly wake someone up now. _Doesn’t fucking matter)_ and depositing him on the bed.

And he looks so pretty like this, splayed out; hair disheveled now, the gel having loosened, irises blue, electric rings, mouth red and swollen. But he grins slowly, wriggling suggestively, “Alright, Mr. Controlling, you’ve gotten me in your bed. Now what?” _Jesus_.

Grinning wickedly, the Alpha makes quick work of removing his shoes and shrugging out of his shirt, crawling onto the bed, on his knees between the boys legs. There he leans forward, mouth grazing his ear, “Tease. You’re ‘bout to find out.”

When his mouth finds Louis’s again, his fingers curl around the loops of his trousers, dragging him close, so he’s completely beneath him as Harry’s tongue dominates his sweet mouth again. It’s not soft. Not this time. This time he doesn’t ease the Omega into it, he takes full advantage, forcing his tongue against the boys again and again, taking his mouth the way he wants to take his body.

Fisting his curls, the Omegas back arches, bringing them closer, then he’s moaning into his mouth, “Harry– _please._ ” The sound, high and breathless, shatters what little remains of Harry’s control. And he’s all about Louis’s sweet, soft mouth, sucking, biting, _claiming_ and stroking. Basking in the taste, the feel. Little mewls escape the back of the Omega’s throat, little mewls that Harry swallows, little mewls that make his cock fatten impossibly in his trouser, throbbing and wanting into his perky virgin arse. _Fuck. Mine, that’s mine, I’m going to have that, I don’t care when, but I am, and then–,_

Leaving his mouth the Alpha growls against his throat, mouthing wetly at his silky skin as Louis gasps, “More. More, Harry, more, more, more.” But no, he’s not having it; his mouth is relentless, excruciatingly slow, marking his skin, bruising it. “You feel so good underneath me, kitten,” he groans, one hand moving the obnoxious collar of his shirt, hindering his trail. Taking the material between his fingers the Alpha rips the material, separating it, and grinning when the buttons go flying.

“Haz, please,” Louis breathes again, wriggling his hips in attempts to get Harry’s attention to his aching cock, no doubt.

“ _No,_ ” Harry growls, pinning his hips to the mattress. “I want to savor this. Drag it out. I’m not giving you what you want until you’re begging and my names the only word leaving your lips.”

Louis whines, bucking his hips again, taking one hand from his hair to his bare shoulder, blunt nails dragging into the skin. Under the sensation, his entire body shudders, and then he’s turning the boy onto his belly, giving him friction from the mattress and rocking his cock flush-against his luscious arse. _Fuck. Wasn’t supposed to do this._

“More,” the Omega breathes, mewling and moving his arse against the Alpha’s cock, like he _knows_ what he’s doing. With the soft pressure on his cock, Harry’s eyes roll a bit, but shaking his head, the Alpha grinds his hips against his arse again, watching Louis jolt, listening to his soft moan.

Refocusing, the Alpha flips him onto his back again, grabs his wandering hands, taking both his wrists in one and pinning them above him, so he doesn’t have leverage. 

With the Omega at his mercy, the Alpha growls, pleased as he strokes his parted mouth, the moves onto his love-bite littered throat, continuing to mark him up. And he thinks the boy likes this as he shudders with every pull. Against his skin, the Alpha breathes, continuing to his bare shoulder, planting his mouth there next, licking over the smooth, tanned skin, amused at the boys _“Harry,”_ and nipping in retaliation. Careful, light his fingers trace the curve of his collarbone, then lower to his pretty, tight little nipple. When his fingers brush the tight little bud, Louis whines high in his throat, and the Alpha whispers, at the climbing pleasure, “Like this, baby?”

There’s something unintelligible, but the Alpha doesn’t care to hear an answer as he drags his mouth lower, to cover one tight little bud, teasing him with his tongue. The high, high moan in response causes Harry to take his hand back, to palm at himself, letting the erotic shocks of their pleasure crash over him. And as he uses his mouth to toy with him, the Alpha savors how his little body thrashes a bit, fighting his hold, though there’s no use, because _fuck this is too good to rush._ Letting his canines catch, Harry moves back and forth between the two until Louis’s whimpering, “Harry, Harry, Harry…” and “I need…I need… _pleasepleaseplease._ ”

Squeezing his cock again, the Alpha tears away to watch the boy’s wide, teary eyes, watch him whither and pant. “What do you need, kitten?”

The boy only whines, hips rising a bit.

“Louis. What. Do. You. Need?”

“You,” Louis gasps, “Please, Harry, please. ‘M…so close…I…need it. Need you.”

“Okay, kitten,” he croaks, releasing his hands, which instantly find his chest, nails raking down from his collarbone, catching his nipple piercings, making him grunt, cock throbbing, knot swelling.

Settling over the small boy’s frame, they’re chest-to-chest, and when Harry buries his face in the crook of his slender throat, Louis’s fragrance is _everywhere._ And vaguely the Alpha wonders if Louis’s wet–the thought makes him groan, want to remove these trousers and find out. But he can’t fucking do that–doesn’t have that kind of control. Wouldn’t be able to stop–“Fuck,” he hisses, bringing his hips down, flush against the boys, grinding their cocks slowly, urged by the rough pull of his trousers, listening to Louis’s sexy, little whimpers. “You’re so beautiful. I want to fuck you, kitten. Get you so wet, so, so wet,” he groans, grabbing his hips and raising them to meet his own, bringing their cocks together, creating mind-blowing friction. And the Omega is shaking beneath him, panting and making these little noises, but Harry's hands grip his hips steady, seeking to possess him.

Again, there’s a hand in his hair, pulling and holding the tuffs to hard it’s painful, but the waves of pleasure at every motion heightens everything. Louis is so loud, moving against him, meeting his thrusts, too fast to get the tempo right. But he’s so focused on making him scream, on feeling Louis’s pleasure surge through _him._ Because it’s never been so fucking good, and it’s only _friction,_ but the Alpha can feel what his Omega’s feeling, the white-hot pleasure raking through his body, molten fire surrounds them. By now his knot’s so engorged, seeking walls to connect too, finding nothing, which he’s grateful for, even as he groans at the sensation, the throbbing pain of nothing at all keeping him from cumming. Can’t–Louis first. Always Louis first. Afterwards, he’ll worry about himself.

Driving his hips forward, the Alpha continues the motions so many times, knowing how close Louis is, returning to his parted lips. Taking his lower lip into his mouth, biting the flesh harder than ever before, he breathes, “Go ahead, kitten. Let go. Give it to me.”

That’s what it takes–Harry whites out as Louis screams into his ear, jerking beneath him as Harry hips continue to move. Louis’s cock is so hot against his, even with their trousers blocking more contact, straining but he doesn’t leave it at that, constant thrusts, driving him further into the abyss. “Harry,” the moan is a complete high, porn-star sound that makes the Alpha’s cock pulse, and now he’s shaking so forcefully it’s hard to keep up the rhythm. God it’s so long, so long the orgasm goes through Louis (through _him_ all the same) but when the aftershocks have started, and the Omega is twitching beneath him, breathing so hard, the Alpha whispers, “Again?”

“C-Can’t,” Louis whimpers, and Harry tongues at his mouth, slow and gentle, before smirking. “Again.”

“No,” the Omega shakes his head wildly. “No. No–can’t.”

“Yes, baby, you can,” Harry murmurs decisively, pulling him upright, so he’s seated in his lap, his aching cock nestled by his perky arse. There, the boy shivers, drops his head against Harry’s shoulder, wriggling instinctively, then circling his hips, so good against his cock, whimpering. “Fuck. Yeah,” he groans, flexing his hips, pressing hard against that perfect, gorgeous arse. “Like that, kitten.”

His hands, having relaxed, tighten in the Alpha’s hair again as he rocks a bit more, breathing fast, hot pants against his throat. Using his hands to move Louis’s hips, he guides his movements, letting his head fall back at the sensation swamping him. It’s slower, more intimate as the Omega moves against him, circling, bouncing lightly, shuddering when the Alpha meets him, mewling when Harry grinds his cock harder against his arse. And the Alpha makes sure to keep the relaxed speed, knowing the calmer pace will allow the virgin boy to hold out longer, to build the pressure until it’s unbearable. But it’s still _quick,_ because Louis _is_ so virgin, the pleasure comes fast to him as he’s rutting against Harry’s stomach, seemingly torn between the friction at his cock and the instinctive craving to get something in his arse.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” he breathes a mantra of his name, speeding up, and the Alpha thinks their hearts are racing at the same tempo because he’s so fucking close, his knot is about to reach its fullest capacity. Not inside– _fuck he has to get inside him first._ But the Omega’s grinding now, rubbing against him, panting, arse barely meeting his cock now. “ _Please, Hazza, please it hurts,_ ” he’s yanking viciously on his hair, asking for his attention even as Harry’s so caught on the instinctive need to get him on his knot, the phantom-pleasure coiling in his abdomen.

Groaning low in his throat, Harry possesses his mouth hungrily, sloppily sucking on his tongue, quieting him for the moment as his fingers fit between them, to the buttons of his trousers, working to undo it and pull the trousers beneath his thighs. Working to bare his arse and sink into his sweet, virgin-tight hole. Can’t fucking do this, he thinks desperately but the button gives, and he’s easing the zipper down, careful not to hurt his pretty cock.

“Harry,” Louis whines again, “Need it. Please.” Forcefully, he starts to tug the bloody trousers down, out of his way, but before he does what he _can’t fucking do,_ he blurts, “Again, kitten. Again.” With the words, he forces his beautiful arse back down on his cock as Louis gives another, feeble scream against his mouth, frantically pushing back, spiraling into his orgasm as Harry inhales sharply, feels the bursts of white-hot pleasure from Louis intensify as he uses his arse to get him there–growling when his knot reaches its capacity against his trousers, listening to his Omega’s whimpers as his small body shudders above him, using the sounds to keep him in the present as he cums, knowing it’s going to last so long because it’s been _forever_ since it’s been so fucking mind-blowing, especially since he’s in his rut.

Clinging to the small boy, Harry ruts against his arse impulsively, breathing in his fragrance that brings fresh ruptures of pleasure through him.

Time seems suspended as they collectively take deep, gasping breaths; Louis’s twitching in his lap, still circling his hips. Then, his body gives, slumping above his, letting the ecstasy riptide through him, trusting the Alpha to take care of him as his fingers’ hold in his hair remains rigid. “Fuck,” Harry breathes as the tension leaves his body in a rush, and his head spins with the onslaught. 

Distantly, he hears Louis giggle, all breathy exhaustion, fingers now stroking his cheek, brushing his sweat-dampened curls from his face. When the shaking subsides, the Alpha murmurs, awed and amused, “You’re a screamer.”

Louis tenses a bit, and the heat of his blush is felt on Harry’s skin. “I…I didn’t mean to… I’m so–,”

“No,” Harry whispers, stroking his side, then kissing his bare-shoulder, absorbing his answering shiver. “I like it. More than your laugh, and maybe more than your girlish giggle.”

“But…n-not as much as my smile?” the boy slurs sleepily, nuzzling his throat, then purring.

“Probably equally,” he murmurs thoughtfully, smirking at the remembrance of the sound. So fucking sexy. There’s no doubt that he’s going to hear that sound again and again and again. “Definitely equally.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -hides blushing face- WOW. This chapter took us places, eh?  
> How'd you guys like the date? the ceremony? the LAST PART>;)?  
> I'D LOVE, LOVE, LOVE & greatly appreciate thoughts.
> 
> Much love to you all,  
> .xxx


	17. Part Seventeen;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, hello :3
> 
> Here we are, once again, another update (this one is near and dear to my own heart, absolute favourite so I really, really hope you all love it about as much as I do. -nervously peeks through fingers-)
> 
> Much thanks to my lovely Beta, Milena. Always a helping-hand :)Literally cannot stress the bouts of help and motivation she's provided to me and this fic:) [bestbetaever!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com)  
> And thanks to my sister, Anna: [bestsisterever!](http://fondlemezayn.tumblr.com)  
> Mostly, thank you all for the support and the love, it's truly such a motivator and...I JUST LOVE AND IT AND APPRECIATE IT. You guys are the best, honest. I don't think I could ever say it enough. 
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOUIS! :) & Happy Holidays to you all, 
> 
> Tell me how it goes!;x

“Get his phone! Get his phone!” someone hisses in the distance–somewhat familiar to Harry, who certainly _isn’t_ getting up to investigate the noise. This morning the Alpha’s planning to sleep in, idiots or no idiots. As his rut’s fading he’s feeling lethargic and fatigued–but Louis’s proximity keeps the sexual desire droning through his veins. So damned ravenous that the Alpha considers waking the Omega up with his mouth, and his tongue. Everywhere–tasting his silky skin, beautiful body in the morning sunlight, where the sight is crystal clear (fucking sexy, no doubt).

“Well, where is it?” asks another, raspy voice.

“Bedside table– _yeah, that one–_ right beside his wallet.”

“Well,” someone snorts. “That’s original.”

“He has the money to be original.”

“Will you two _hurry up?_ ”

“Niall! Quit taking pictures of yourself, you dolt.”

“He’s quite beautiful.” An awed voice now, bonded-Alpha surely. Disgusting, the Alpha thinks vaguely.

“I’m beautiful,” and Irish accent simpers– _that attitude isn’t._

“You two _disgust_ me,” that makes two, Harry thinks, slightly irritated. “Give me the bloody phone. I’ll take the pictures,” someone equally as irritated grumbles. _Take the pictures?_ Still, the Alpha refuses to get up. Instead, he shifts, curling protectively around Louis, who sighs, deep in content sleep.

_Shick. Shick._

“Never seen ‘em so adorable…” another voice says, swooning-like. Damn it, no. Harry will not speak. Ignoring them is the plan, and a bloody excellent one at that. 

“Honest, ‘m seeing a new side to them.”

“Me too! The _dark and dirty_ side. I dunno what happened last night–well obviously I _do_ with all that fucking noise. And _look at Louis,_ poor boy looks exhausted. Proper fucked. With all the screamin’ he _musta_ got off good.”

“God, Ni. Pervert.”

“I’m only _saying…!_ ” Now one must resort to speaking when Louis’s reputation is at risk.

“Why are you _here?_ Just shut the fuck up before I _make you,”_ he growls threateningly, voice raucous with sleep and irritation.

Promptly, the responses flood, which _fan-fucking-tastic._ Like Harry _really_ cares to hear their shit excuses.

“Well, uh…we…?” _Liam._  
“Caught.” _Josh._  
“Oh well.” _Zayn._  
“I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.” And lastly, _Niall._

“Shhh, Niall! Louis is still asleep!” Liam shushes Ireland, coughing uncomfortably.

“Yeah, shut up. H is trying to sleep.” _Too late for that._

“Oi, you shut the fuck up, Zayn. I will _end you._ ”

Irritation becomes bloodred, Alpha anger as Harry sits up, gaze burning fire.

“I am going to end you _all._ ”

“Not before I tell the entire _world_ what naughtiness the two of you have been up too! Die in a blaze of _glory!_ ”

And then the Irish bastard flashes his mobile winningly, though it’s blurred and Harry only catches his Twitter feed. At this point, the Alpha grounds his teeth, about to speak when–,

“Josh, stop him!”  
“Good Lord, Niall, don’t do that!”

“Too late!” the Omega grins _evilly,_ tossing the phone back onto the bed before taking on this ridiculous pose, legs bent, feet outward, hands taking on the whole _Egyptian dance_ though they’re opening and closing. A crab, an Irish, evil _crab._

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” his demand is clipped.

“I know what you did.” Someone is going to die this morning. A horrible “coincidental” death. And Harry makes the decision to sacrifice Niallas the little shit approaches the bed, walking wonkily with the bloody posture fixed.

“One step closer,” Harry threatens, bonded-male wilding out at the idea of anyone–even an Omega–getting within touching distance of his vulnerable, sleeping boy. “And my canines are going to be in your fuckin’ arm.”

Of course this doesn’t stop Ireland, who’s unfazed as his hand snaps at Harry, and he cries, “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID! NOW ALL OF CHINA WILL KNOW WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!” Then promptly darting out the exit and escaping Harry’s wrath with maniacal cackles. Karma will come back around–or revenge. Revenge sounds more…fitting.

“Was that…Mulan? I know I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

“’S Mulan,” Josh acknowledges, chucking pleasantly. “Funny, my boy is.”

“I wouldn’t call that _funny,_ more so–,”

At this point, the Alpha has _heard_ and _had_ enough.

“Get the _fuck_ out.” Standing, Harry stalks up to Josh and Liam, taking an ear in each hand and not giving a fuck that Josh is growling ( _fuckin’ bite me–see what happens)_ and Liam looks scadalised at being handled this way, and dragging the Alphas to the exit. “Next time you come in our room with Louis less than decent and _asleep_ at that–you know what, fuck it, next time either of you step foot in our room _period,_ I will make it a mission to beat the fuck out of the both of you.”

With that, he shoves their shoulders and closes the door behind him, growling under his breath, and calling on whatever semblance of self-control he’s restored throughout the night. Still, he brings his fist up, prepared to slam in into the wall when–, “Er…Did you forget about me?”

Is there no fucking _escape?_

Already riled up, his Alpha bites back at his mental state, but Harry manages to drop his hand to his side, raising his gaze to focus on Zayn, who looks sheepish from where he stands at the foot of the bed.  “I am giving you five seconds, _five,_ to leave this room, Zayn.”

And there’s no mistaking the Alpha resonance in his voice. Even his best mate winces, looking stunned because Harry’s never used his voice on any Omega, especially not Zayn.

“ _Five seconds!_ ” he snarls, opening the door and glowering at the boy who scurries out, looking very Omega and apologetic. _Whatever._

With the door shut again, Harry rests his forehead on the cool surface, wondering when his Alpha had gained so much control over him–he feels like a fucking _animal,_ all instinctive urges and reactions. _Welcome to the bonded-Alpha-world, Styles. Enjoy your fucking stay._

Some welcoming.

Smiling blandly, he’s prepared to get ready for the day (because he can’t very well go back to sleep now) when a little, girlish giggle floods the silent room.  From where he’s snuggled in the masses of pillows, and many throws, Louis is smiling sleepy, giggling with those eyes shut.

Some welcoming, indeed.

Humming contentedly, the Omega sighs, then asks quietly, “Why so grouchy, Alpha?”

 _Alpha–_ at the title, the current thrills through him, vision focusing on the path coloured beautifully in angry pinks and deep reds, proving that last night actually happened, that his control had faltered. And that lapse is one he mostly regrets–because last night control had been needed. Because there’d been so many questions to ask, topics ( _like the tears, and the painful sadness?)_ to discussion…Questions never asked, topics never discussed, understanding never _found._ Because his Alpha had gotten in the way–he’d touched and felt and _marked_ his innocent Omegas body, and that’s also regretted. Except there isn’t _one_ Alpha that wouldn’t be satisfied with this; wouldn’t be prideful and smug over the fact that he’d had Louis screaming and whimpering _his_ name. Better, that he’d taken care of his precious, naïve boy.

Voice husky, Harry answers openly, “Nobody else needs to see you like this.” _Because this is mine–waking up to you like this is…my sight to marvel over. Only mine._

“Like what?” Though the boys knowing smile speaks unspoken words–there’s no way he doesn’t know exactly what a sight he must prove, with mussed, still messy hair (somehow still damp despite his shower hours ago), lashes casting those shadows, mouth swollen and soft, throat marked with those captivating reds and pinks, continuing to his shoulders (which are concealed by another of Harry’s shirts, so many times bigger on him), then there’s his arse in those bloody pants, and legs–tearing his eyes away, Harry swallows, and manages, “Like that.”

Louis pouts, licking his bottom lip so it’s that much more tempting. “’M I a mess?”

“You’re so beautiful,” the Alpha breathes seriously. Christ, he’s never seen anyone or anything beautiful as Louis Tomlinson in the pale morning light with sleep mussed hair, bleary, blank blues, and smooth, lovebite littered skin.

Contentment filters through the unseen bond as Louis stretches, smiling again. “You’re not so bad yourself, Alpha.”

“You wouldn’t know–haven’t felt me up in a while.”

Louis giggles. “Have you grown a second head since two nights ago? China doesn’t need another frog-face.”

“Nah, kitten,” he growls playfully, still standing there stupidly. “’M all me. China hasn’t seen anything yet.”

“Probably for the best,” the Omega murmurs. “I’d be put out if all of China saw you and I couldn’t.”

At the reminder that China has a better chance as seeing him than Louis ever will something dark and unwelcome coils in his chest. But he doesn’t want to ruin this. Not right now, on their last day.

“Don’t worry, little one, this is all yours,” he smirks, dimples and all, walking across the room to grab a towel from the rack.

“Oh my! I’m so honored,” Louis coos, sitting up, now smiling shyly at the sheets pooled in his lap.

“As you should be. I didn’t get this fabulous for nothing.” Very true–it’s probably the second best adjective to use when describing Harry Styles, right up there with _dickhead._

“You’re so modest.”

“One of my many charms,” Harry says, nodding. “I’ll be back. ‘M going to freshen up.”

“No, I am,” Louis declares, scooting down the mattress and to a stance, Harry’s shirt hanging mid-thigh as he starts towards the bathroom, confident in his steps by now. With a playful growl, Harry drops the towel and makes quick work of grabbing the Omega around the waist, hooking his other arm beneath his smooth thighs and lifting him effortlessly.

“Are you?” he asks, smirking again.

“I _was,”_ Louis huffs, crossing his arms petulantly, “Apparently now I’m not.”

“Are your legs not working?” Somehow Harry manages to sound serious despite his extreme amusement.

“Is your _brain_ not working?” the boy retorts, quirking an artful eyebrow.

“Apparently not.”

“Apparently.”

“You’re so stupid.” _You make me stupid._

“You’re so beautiful,” is the best insult Harry can think up. Or maybe he’s not thinking at all. Because damn it _beautiful_ is becoming pale–not nearly fitting enough. Unimaginably lovely and gorgeous and lovely and gorgeous and–

“You’re an arse.” Another fond insult.

“Your arse.”

“ _My_ arse is fabulous.”

“And _I’m_ modest,” the Alpha snorts, rolling his eyes, then finds himself grinning down at Louis Tomlinson who grins back at him, bringing careful, light fingertips to his jaw, tracing the line. “And I’m smitten,” he breathes timidly.

“Lovely to meet you, Smitten,” Harry murmurs vaguely, caught up in the feel of the boys touch and his reassuring weight. Suddenly, this has become his whole world–faith and desire and so many other emotions he’d never thought to feel.

“Likewise, Modest.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. “You can put me down. We can brush our teeth. Then _maybe_ you can kiss me.”

“How many kisses?”

Taking his bottom lip between his canines, the Omega thinks about this, then murmurs, “One kiss.”

“One!” the Alpha exclaims, incredulous as his eyebrows crease.

“Don’t be greedy,” Louis chides as Harry begins to walk them to the connecting bath.

“A billion kisses,” he murmurs decisively, setting the boy on the counterpane.

“Million,” Louis counters.

“Three hundred million?”

While the boy thinks this through, Harry runs the tap on warm, wetting his toothbrush secondly before adding toothpaste to the bristles. “Alright,” Louis allows. “Three hundred million.”

“Now we’re talking,” Harry says, grinning in triumph as he folds the boys fingers around the toothbrushes handle.

“Back in business, we are,” Louis giggles, then hops down, batting at him and the popping the brush in his mouth. Leaning lazily against the doorframe, the Alpha watches Louis brush his teeth methodically, once again griped by another pang of panic at the domesticity.

“You know,” Louis mutters around his toothbrush, mouth foamy, and it’s ridiculously endearing. “It’s impolite to stare, Harold.”

Gaze unmoving, Harry shrugs, “I know. But I really don’t care.”

Without another comment, Louis finishes up, then asks, holding one hand out, “Mouthwash.”

Filling one of the disposable paper-cups with mouthwash, the Alpha gives this, floss ready before the Omega even asks. As the boy works through that, Harry brushes his own teeth, and they continue the normalcy together. All the while, they discuss their last minute errands and plans for the day, Louis atop the counter again. It’s decided (after too much banter and wit) that they’re going to downtown Paris to shop for the girls’ gifts, then pick up Harriet (and whatever the others had managed to make) before arriving to the skyline by two.

“Disguises!” Louis cries when the Alpha decides it’s time to choose their outfits for the day. “We need disguises!”

Grinning wolfishly, Harry leans in close, fitting between his thighs to brush his mouth over the boys ear, “What do you suggest, little one?”

Breath catching, Louis asks, voice adorably high, “Hats?”

“Hmm,” Harry hums, nosing at his jaw now, where his own scent is so strong the Omegas will be nearly unrecognisable to any other Alpha. _Fucking perfect._ Territorial as Alphas are, the knowledge provides little satisfaction still. But it’ll do, for now. “I like that idea. I like you,” he continues, planting soft, tender kisses to his jaw, dragging his mouth down the silky skin of his slender throat. Sighing, the Omega tilts his head to the left, baring his throat to Harry, and it’s unbelievable sexy, how obedient Louis is for him.

Unable to help it, the Alphas arm circles his slim waist, bringing him closer, mouthing at the lighter lovebites at his throat, even as Louis mumbles, “Haz.”

“Yes.”

Squirming, Louis makes this broken, little noise. “W-We have…places to be.”

Nipping lightly at the sensitive skin, Harry sighs, then distances them a fraction, nosing at the Omegas cute nose, and murmuring, “I know. But ‘m selfish, and I want to keep you here for myself.”

In response, the Omega mirrors his earlier words, “I like that idea. I like you.”

Harry’s answering smile is so wide his cheeks ache dully. Jesus, he’d thought he couldn’t be any happier…but then Louis has to go and reach those seemingly impossible heights within him. “Would you stay?” he asks, voice whisper-soft. “With me?”

Flattening one, small palm over Harry’s heart, the Omega relaxes into him, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. There, Louis places his other hand over his eyes. “Probably,” he admits, giggling sweetly. “Though it’d be mad to do so.”

Placing his right hand over the dainty one at his chest, the Alpha tangles their fingers. “It’s mad to want it, too.”

“We’re mad.”

“We are,” Harry agrees. “But I don’t really care.”

And when Louis gives the same agreement, the Alpha thinks perhaps soulmates still exist in spite of everything.

♥

            “When I said _hat,_ ” Louis grumbles when the engine purrs to life, “I didn’t mean _this._ ” Absolutely _not_ –there’s no way Louis could have predicted _this_ –sulking in the passenger side of another one of Harry’s disgustingly posh cars with this ridiculous, no doubt _pretty_ flower-crown placed carefully in his hair. Even now the thought of someone other than Harry or the boys seeing him like this causes his cheeks to burn. Strictly facing the window, Louis pouts.

Honestly, it’s not fair, absolutely _not._ Because the Alpha had _purposely_ chosen Niall (of course) to make the ultimate decision, _Niall,_ who has no shame, and knows no bounds. _Traitor_ –that traitor had encouraged Harry’s behaviour, encouraged him with his ridiculous fawning, _“Awe, Lou, you look so cute! Oh my God, lemme get a picture! Just one! Best idea frog-face has ever had! Harry, you brilliant shit, you.”_

Now it’s been an hour, _an hour_ without Harry’s touch, because he’s a devout believer in pay-back. But karma has come around as the Alpha seems unfazed by the distance while Louis’s clingy Omega is _begging_ to be touched. It’s really not fair.

“You’ve made that apparent, love,” the Alpha tells him, smug. “But I still don’t see the problem. You look very pretty.”

At the compliment more colour blooms at his cheeks, but Louis manages to scoff, “Pretty. This wasn’t meant to be _pretty._ It was meant to be…inconspicuous. A _disguise._ ”

“It _is_ a disguise.”

“Really? ‘M willing to wager a hundred pounds someone recognises me.”

“Alright–we’ll see.”

“ _You’ll_ see,” Louis shoots back, tangling his hands in his lap. “I won’t ever.”

When the Alpha doesn’t respond, the Omega realizes his mistake and regrets bringing up his vision or lack thereof. There isn’t one moment he’s able to forget, but he’s learnt over the years that it’s a topic nobody is comfortable with, not even his Mum. Just…he’s learnt to live as normally as possible but it’s _not the same,_ sometimes he gets too frustrated trying to voice what he wants someone else to put into his essay, or listening to someone else describe simple mathematic problems and have him try to work them out in his head, or listening to a lecture he’ll no doubt have to store into memory when his head still _aches._ There is so _much_ that’s _not normal,_ and sometimes it’s a lot to hold inside.

Even though it shouldn’t, knowing Harry can’t even face the wretched truth, _hurts_.

The tense silence stretches until Louis feels like screaming, furious at himself for ruining the morning over a _flower-crown._  Even as Louis considers this, no sound escapes him, even as the car slows to a halt. Working to release the seatbelt, the Omega realizes it’s difficult because his thoughts are in a mess and his hands are trembling uncontrollably.

In his focus, Louis doesn’t even notice Harry opens his door, but then large hands bat his away, flawlessly freeing him, then tugging him outside to his feet. Without warning he’s wrapped in an embrace. With the Alphas scent clouding his senses, Louis sinks readily into the hold, calming as Harry’s warmth bleeds into him.

“Don’t be angry,” Louis breathes into Harry’s collarbone. “I didn’t mean to bring it up. I know–,”

Before the Omega can finish the Alpha separates them some, leaning forward to place careful, barely-there kisses along his nose and cheeks. “We sabotage ourselves.”

“I know,” the Omega admits, mouth parting as those invisible butterflies fluttering his belly escape his mouth with every shallow breath. “I’m so–,”

“Hush,” Harry quiets him, pulling him in again. “You have nothing to apologise for. Everyone else? Maybe. But not you. Don’t ever apologise to me for your vision. Ever. Because I can’t stand the thought…”

“The thought…” Louis prompts, letting his lashes flutter shut as his functional senses take the Alpha in. Breathe his scent. Taste his longing. Feel his warmth and the security his presence brings. Home comes to mind, and the Omega thinks the Alpha might be the house that builds him, thinks he’s supporting the foundation. Thinks that as long as he can touch him and feel him, _sense_ him…this brokenness inside him might start healing. Out here, in the real world, it’s like he’s someone else…but the Alpha makes him want to find himself, to remember who he _is_ and what makes him whole.

“The thought of you being afraid to tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Louis asks, wondering how Harry manages to make him forget there’s such a thing as reality.

“Anything. How you’re feeling. What you’re feeling. How you hurt inside…” the words are gentle, but there’s this muted sadness to them, too. “I wish you didn’t hurt inside.” The confession causes his heart to swell– _you make me hurt less, you make me feel whole inside._ Lifting one hand the Omega strokes Harry’s cheekbone, tracing the outline, but no longer wondering _why_ or _when_ he’d fallen this in love.

Because how could he _not?_ It’s been there all along–bright, blinding light that Louis won’t ever see but can sense inside and around Harry Styles. It’s his very essence. Strong and unsighted, so breathtaking, with missing frequencies that Louis’s darkness can seal.

Darkness and light. White and black. The moon and the sun. LouisandHarry. Not meant–but dependent on each other, _necessary._ Because without the light there’d be no darkness. Without white there would be no means to black. And without the sun, the moon would be purposeless.

Smile watery, the Omega bites his tongue against the _“I love you,”_ leaving this bittersweet taste on his tongue, and this soaring happiness reaching his fingertips and toes. With this feeling, he’s passed the clouds, floating where nothing can reach him. Up here, there’s no sadness, there’s only LouisandHarry.

Between them, the current thrills. “Keep holding me and I won’t hurt so much, I won’t leave.”

“Promise?” the Alpha breathes, lacing their fingers. There’s something desperate in his tone–like he _needs_ to hear the word as much as Louis needs to _not_ say it. “Promise me.”

With one, shaky breath, the promise leaves his lips. Except the guilt never appears because Harry Styles releases his own breath, like he’d been holding the oxygen in, but it’s more throaty, relieved laughter as the Alpha distances them again. “Don’t break that promise.”

“No promises,” Louis says, and though he’s serious, he _can’t_ promise not to break that promise, the Alpha gives another, boyish laugh before reaching out to adjust the flower-crown in his hair.

“You won’t. I trust you. You won’t break it.” So sure…

 _You shouldn’t trust me–I’m going to break that promise. And I’m so sorry._ Swallowing around the swelling in his throat, Louis mumbles, “You don’t even know me.”

“I do,” the Alpha murmurs surely, then starts to drag him along the streets of downtown Paris, “You’ve got such a sweet tooth that I think you might get cavities. You read when you’re bored even though you don’t like to read. You think you’re too small, so you try to make up for it with that smart-mouth. You don’t like compliments; they make you uncomfortable because you’re unable to believe what you cannot see. You like acting, but you’re not very good at it. You’re a bit of dramaqueen,”

“King,” Louis interrupts weakly though Harry continues like he hadn’t spoken.

“You like to be taken care of, but you won’t ever admit it because you don’t want to seem weak–which is ridiculous, by the way. You like being the center of attention,”

“Your attention,” he corrects pertly.

“And sometimes when you think nobody is looking, you visualize your surroundings with those graceful hands. Running your fingers over the table or the designs in coffee mugs or the crinkles in bottles and so on. When you’re in the kitchen, I sorta fear you might touch something hot and burn yourself.” That’s almost happened before, but Louis refuses to stimulate Harry’s silly worries.

Cheeks warming, Louis mumbles, “I’m not daft, baby.”

“No, but you’re confident in your actions. Sometimes I think a bit too confident. Or perhaps I’m not giving you enough credit.”

“I think it’s you.”

There’s that award-winning grin in his voice now. “Perhaps. But it doesn’t change anything. You’re like my favourite book; I could read you all day.”

“You don’t even read much,” Louis protests. “Be realistic.”

“You’re like my favourite song; I could listen to your voice all day.”

“Next I’ll be like your favourite meal, and you could eat me all day,” Louis teases, attempting to lighten the intensity in Harry’s words.

“Oh, don’t tempt me, kitten,” the Alpha warns darkly.

“Alright,” Louis acquiesces, blushing to the tips of his ears. “You _somewhat_ know me.”

“Somewhat!” the Alpha snorts, like it’s ridiculous to say so. “I know you, Louis Tomlinson. You’re running through my veins and,” abruptly, Louis’s brought to a halt as one of Harry’s unbelievably large hands cup his cheek, “I. Know. You.”

“You don’t,” Louis denies weakly, trying to turn his head. “Not really. You don’t know what I like and–,”

“You take your tea with a splash of milk and three sugars. But sometimes you get sick of the same old taste, so you opt for a splash of milk and one sugar.” At this, Louis’s breath catches, and his struggle ceases.

As the Alpha noses at his temple, he whispers, “I know you.”

“You know me…”

“But there’s more to learn, I’m sure. So much more.”

“More than my preference in tea? Surely not.”

Laughing quietly, Harry nods, tugging his hand so they’re close, but further from the trafficking people. “Shocking, but true. There’s much to know and figure out.”

“What if you don’t like what you find?” Louis asks–heartbeat picking up as his insides become soupy.

“Impossible.”

“Possible.”

“Not even the slightest possibility.”

Shaking his head, Louis tries to fight his smile, but doesn’t win, mumbling, “You’re so stubborn, Haz. A stubborn, handsome, annoying arse.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Oooh,” Louis says with a patronizing sigh. “Nice come-back. Really hit home.”

“One of these days that smart mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.”

Louis grins sweetly, “Trouble is my middle name.”

“Funny,” Harry murmurs, voice descending a thousand, compelling octaves. “On our second date I was thinking it was _difficult._ ”

“Rude,” Louis breathes, but his smile fades as his heart races, mouth parting. “Should’ve _known_ you’d be–,” but he’s interrupted as Harry’s mouth meets his. In seconds the Alpha’s lips possess his. They tingle, burn, and Louis barely notices that he’s stretching on his tiptoes, one hand fisting Harry’s curls, caught in the sensation of Harry’s hand strolling down to the small of his back, urging him against his body.

Against him, the Alphas mouth stifles his low whine, because Harry’s…cock (that’s what they call this? So _vulgar)_ is pressed against his belly, sending heat pooling his abdomen, vaguely familiar. And he wants more. More of that feeling from last night; wants to feel fireworks burst inside him as pleasure washes through him in riptides, sending him to that same, floaty place.

Too soon the Alpha tears his mouth away, breathing harsh in Louis’s ear, making him shiver. “Feel what you’ve done to me, kitten,” his voice is so deep, and sticky. “Make me feel like ‘m going through my first rut all the time.”

Of course Harry would choose to tell him this _now,_ in the middle of Paris, with passing eyes and ears both looking and hearing. But then again, they might seem like another love-struck couple. Whatever it may be, the Omega whimpers low in his throat, squirming even when Harry hisses, one hand finding his waist to stop the unconscious motion.

“Behave,” it’s a command, an Alphas command, but Louis is flushed and warm all over, wants more, more, more, _again_.

“Please,” he breathes, unable to help the begging. It’s like every Omega gene has welled up inside him, begging to be possessed like last night. To feel the Alpha pressed against his bum, and the sticky wet at the tip of his…arousal (that’s much nicer to think), the blaze of energy coiling tight in his belly, lighting sparks through his body.

Leaning down, Harry takes his bottom lip between those canines, and Louis feels the drag shock through him. And his mouth softens in welcoming as Harry’s tongue draws over his flesh, and his Omega thinks the Alpha wants to bite him. But not where he’s supposed to–not at the sensitive skin at his throat.

“Behave,” he repeats, releasing his bottom lip to brush their lips again, sweeter now. “Be good, kitten, and I’ll show you something later.”

“A good boy?” Louis asks dazedly.

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

There’s one harsh exhale against his throat. “No. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

Something extremely un-Omega-like rises up inside him–he’s so frustrated and needy. Being like this is new and extremely freaking frustrating. “Unbelievable. You’re such a _Beta,_ ” he snaps, and it’s an insult to any Alpha as they’re extremely prideful in their superiority over all the other factions. Because they have that stupid voice, and that stupid _knot,_ and that stupid dominance. They’re all so stupid, really.

Harry’s answering growl causes him to flinch a bit. But, “Don’t _growl_ at me, Harry Styles.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“How about you watch _yours?_ ‘Cause it talks some shit.” It’s rare for Louis to swear, let alone at an Alpha, but right now it really doesn’t matter.

There’s a short pause, then he’s being tugged again against the Alphas lanky, solid frame.  Unthinkingly, his body relaxes as one, large hand curls at his cheek, and his mouth is being dominated. True to his Omega side, Louis’s mouth parts again, and when Harry’s tongue strokes his own, his stupid Omega body tingles, and sparks ignite in his stupid Omega veins, making his knees weak. Keeping him upright, Harry’s arm circles his waist, and there’s a hushed, husky laugh against his mouth before Harry breathes, “ _Every time._ Every bloody time you mouth me I wanna kiss you. And when we’re arguing I _have to._ I don’t know why but _fuck_ you’re so sexy when you’re angry.”

It’s so hard to think…All his mind can manage to come up with is: _mouth…kisses…Harry…what?_

“But…’ he tries to dispute weakly, but the Alphas mouth is so distracting, licking at his bottom lip, then stroking his tongue, which responds to the taste and the feel and–,

“No _buts._ You’re going to be good for me. Okay?”

_Mouth…kisses…Harry…what?_

“No…H, wait, I…”

“See? You can’t even think of a way to deny me. Now, be a good boy and let’s go shopping, yeah?” Now his mouth drags to Louis’s jaw even as the Omega tries to wriggle away from the sensation, to unearth his scattered thoughts.

Harry must take this as a nod. “’S not so bad.” _That’s it,_ Louis thinks, _this is going too far._

“No,” he denies angrily, squirming more, but Harry’s grip is firm, mouth bruising now, molding to his flushed skin. _Tosser. Why does he affect me this way?_ “I–,” but his breath catches when Harry’s mouth sweeps the achingly sensitive skin where his bonding mark will be. Louis bites his lip so hard he tastes blood, trying to keep down a moan.

“You know you’re defeated,” the knowing voice Harry’s taken on is unnerving. “Now, let’s–,”

“Oh my God,” Louis twists, poking the Alpha in the chest as Harry plants a kiss to his nose. Forcing his useless eyes into a glare of hatred–or as close as he can get to hatred towards Harry–Louis accuses, “You’re doing that on _purpose!”_

Of course the Alpha begins to laugh, that endearing cackle, crushing Louis to his chest. Pouting, the Omega nips at his collar, licking over the skin in apology when Harry yelps exaggeratedly. “I’m sorry, kitten,” he manages, not sounding sorry at all as he falls back into his laughter, entire body shaking with it.

“Harold, you are one evil _Beta,_ ” Louis tells him, settling into the embrace and hiding his smile in the deeply scented skin of Harry’s throat.

“That I am,” the Alpha agrees smugly, with one last chuckle. “Now, let’s shop, shall we?”

Rocking backwards on his heels, their hands linked, Louis sighs, “Fine. Lead the way, shopaholic.” 

♥

 _“Harry Styles! Louis!!”_ Two hours later, after several stops, with more than several bags in both hands, the first call finds him. They’re heading back to the car now, and Louis’s arms are around his shoulders, dragging him. The position is vaguely uncomfortable, but the Omega’s soft, luscious body is pressed against his, hiding his straining cock (really, Louis’s scent only makes it worse) and they’re breathing the same, warm air.

Grimacing, the Alpha watches from behind his sunglasses as Louis’s face lights up, smile brilliant. “I win!” he sing-songs, plucking the fedora from his head and placing it over his flower-crown.

“I’m Harry Styles,” he poorly imitates Harry’s voice, and the Alpha can’t help but grin at the boy’s attempt. One hand on the edge of the fedora, tipping it, Louis pulls an adorably innocent face. “And ‘m so hipsta’ because I wear fedoras and listen to shit music and wear ridiculous flamingo shirts. Surely I look normal now. Nothing out of the ordinary. Oooh,” now he stretches the word, slowing the pace, “Wait. ‘M _also_ such an arrogant Alpha, one of _many,_ and don’t believe my beautiful, _fabulouis,_ Omega, so now we’re going–,” before he finishes, the boy trips up, losing balance in seconds.

Dropping the most of the bags, Harry catches his wrist as the Omega gasps, the hat falling in his face a bit as he begins to giggle charmingly.

“Why, thank you, kind Sir,” he bats those lashes, and though Harry can feel the stares burning into his back, the Alpha only thinks of how fucking sexy this boy is, looking all coy despite the lovebites indicating otherwise.

“Harry! Harry!” strangers call to him.

“Harry, Harry,” Louis breathes, mimicking their approaching audience, pulling his bottom lip between his canines. Inhaling sharply, Harry’s hand tightens around his wrist, and his cock fucking _jerks_ in his trousers, perfectly outlined and visible now. _Say hello to my cock, world–_ he’s quite proud of his endowment, so fuck it, they can look, what’s it matter.

“Harry, kiss him!”

Looking momentarily stunned, the Omegas eyebrows raise, but then he grins sweetly, rounding those deep, cobalt blues before speaking in this soft, spacey voice, “Harry, kiss me.”

“Fuck,” he growls, dropping the rest of the bags to bring his hands around the boys back, so they’re close, and then he’s kissing him desperately, mouth insistent, branding the Omega, who arches against him, giggling into his mouth, though the sound fades as Harry’s tongue meets his, tasting his sweet mouth, stroking and taking, before retreating to close his teeth over the swollen flesh of his bottom lip, breathing rough. “Fuck,” he groans low in his throat.

“Is later coming soon?” Louis breathes, licking over the points of his canines suggestively.

“Not a fucking chance,” he growls, keeping ahold of the Omegas wrist but retrieving the discarded bags, glaring absolute _murder_ at their audience before towing the young, stumbling boy towards the car–not so far now.  Fuck, he wants to get him in the backseat, tug those tight trousers past his thighs and get his mouth– _not happening._

Instead, he hurries them to the car–the Range Rover which he’s purposely kept in France because it’s possibly his favourite and he likes to keep it special–opening the backseat to carelessly toss the bags, then slamming it shut to open the passenger side, helping Louis in hastily, about to move away when the Omega closes his eyes and smiles softly, “I don’t care what they say, H. Laugh about it. ‘S just the sun rising again is all.”

Puzzled, the Alphas eyebrows furrow, distracted as his eyes memorise the boy in this humble light, with his lashes long and thick, smile playing at the corners of his mouth, humming to some tune Harry can’t recognise.

Or doesn’t have the time to because the next round of calls missile out to them. Rolling his eyes behind his aviators, Harry makes it to the driver’s side in seconds, jamming the key in the ignition and reversing. Except at that point the pap surrounds the car at all angles and sides, shouting questions and (shallow) compliments, effectively forcing them to a stand-still.

Irritation intensifying, Harry mutters, more to himself than Louis, “We’re trapped.”

Beside him the Omega hums. “Well then, Alphaboy, find an escape route.”

Like it’s so simple–then again, somehow Louis makes everything seem so damned simple. And it’s such a breath of fresh air. The contradictory simplicity that makes the boy impossible to resist. Jesus, he’s never going to be able to live without him–if there’s even the threat of Louis leaving or something of the other, Harry’s going to bond him. And he only hopes his Alpha lets it happen on the Omegas terms. _Fuck._

Retracting one hand from the steering wheel, the Alpha lowers his window. “Move,” he mutters out the window, voice low beneath the uproar. Apparently, the Alpha resonance works, but not nearly enough as the crowd shuffles backwards mere feet. The bulk is Alphas so their faces are contorted with resentment and _no-care._ No care about anything other than latching their covetous eyes on _his_ Louis.

Which pisses him the fuck off–his temper spikes and Harry grits his teeth in order to hold back his canines.

“Back the _fuck_ off,” it’s almost a shout, almost. This is becoming ridiculous. Then again, if Harry was just some stranger on the street, he’d probably make it a point to get a better look at Louis. Because Louis demands attention. He’s the perfect sort of Omega. Well, to the eyes at least. Small, curved, pretty features and soft, smooth skin. But inside he’s so much _more_ than that. Not typical–which compliments Harry, who’s never sought out an Omega who was especially meek and agreeable to the point of boredom. Hell, he’d been more interested in Alpha females due to the fact that he _fucking lives for a challenge._

And he’s found that and so much more in Louis Tomlinson.

Maybe that’s what scares him the most. The unknown. Because they fight about as much as they play, and they hate about as much as they love, and Christ there is so much to worry about.

 _Worry about it later,_ his Alpha sneers, _think about protecting our boy now._

Sighing, Harry removes his aviators, tosses them in the backseat and removes his buckle, muttering, “I’ll be right back.”

“Drive.”

At the word, the Alphas head whips around and he stares at Louis incredulously. There’s this spark in the boys eyes, and Harry thinks to a lesser Alpha that might seem intimidating. Alphas don’t take kind to being challenged _at all,_ to an Omega calling the shots, but those Alphas are morons, because strong-willed, mischievous, _unique_ Omegas are the better of the Omega faction. In Harry’s opinion at least–then again his opinion is the only one that matters (besides Louis’s of course, but that’s a whole separate situation).

Another lesson Louis’s taught him.

“You do realize there is a lot of idiots swarming up, yeah?”

Rolling his eyes, Louis says, “Drive, H. Fast, too.”

“Why?” Once again, he’s coming up short. What the hell dose Louis want him to do? Run them all down? Though the thought is rather appealing, he’d rather not spend the night in lockup before his Father can bail him. This has happened before, once or twice, and though he can handle sitting in a jail-cell with just him, his Alpha, and the taunting bars constraining his freedom…he’d rather not risk Louis ending up in the same situation.

It’s a bit soul-sucking, really. And Harry would sale his own soul in seconds to make sure Louis’s stays intact, snowy white with innocence. Yeah, that’s the best alternative. What Alpha needs a soul anyway? Especially one who’s soul is already trapped within the Council. _Fuck it._

“Well,” Louis murmurs cheerily. “They’ll move if they value their lives, yeah?”

“You’re diabolical,” Harry states with an answering smirk, taking the boys dainty hand in his own. “And I really adore you.” Clasping his seatbelt with his free hand, then taking ahold of the wheel, Harry glances at Louis, making sure he’s securely clasped, then bringing that hand to his mouth, feeling the silk skin on his lips and asking, “Sure you wanna do this?”

“Does it matter much? You’re going through with it anyway,” Louis acknowledges, but there’s excitement in his voice, and Harry’s heart does that worrying act again–maybe it’s singing and freaking out in its post-adrenal-phase. It’s a funny thought.

“It was your idea. You know better than to give me ideas you’d rather not go through with.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Louis mumbles, beaming nonetheless.

“Ready?”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

“Good boy.” With that, Harry slams the gas. Though it’s not meant for speed, the car shoots forward at dangerous speeds that causes adrenaline to flood him and it’s amusing to see the blur of their followers struggling to get out of the way. They’ve got some brains through, as they save their own lives, scattering like bugs. Letting up on the gas, Harry grins at Louis, who’s chewing on his bottom lip, hand clutching Harry’s.

By the time they’ve reached the lots ending, they’ve slowed to a relatively appropriate speed (mostly due to Harry letting the car cruise, not touching the gas again). Louis remains oddly quiet, silent until surprising him as he dissolves into laughter–the sound is high and childish. Musical in ways it shouldn’t be because the pitch is too high…but to Harry it’s still melodic and his thoughts continue dotingly.

“That was fun,” Louis breathes, cheeks flushed beautifully. “Let’s do that again.”

“LOL.”

Now the Omegas eyebrows crease, the little _v_ forms as he murmurs, “LOL? As in laughing out loud?”

Biting the inside of his cheek against his amusement, the Alpha says, “Precisely.”

“Why?” Louis groans spectacularly, “Why would you ruin the fun with that?!”

Smile wide, shit-eating, Harry starts, “What? I couldn’t think of a response. Couldn’t say _yes_ because when I give you an inch, it becomes a mile, and I couldn’t say _no_ because I _like_ giving you whatever you want.”  

Now the Omega blinks, “Why not _maybe?_ ”

“That’s too open. Gives room for negotiation.”

Fighting an obvious smile, Louis mumbles, “You’re an idiot.”

“By idiot, do you mean _brilliant?_ ”

From his peripheral vision, the Alpha catches the Omega poking his tongue out at him. “’S that what you want to hear?”

“I’d never shy from a well-deserved compliment. Well is that what you mean?”

“LOL.”

Of course the response isn’t exactly expected. Then again, Louis isn’t predictable. And Harry thinks, _yeah, that’s probably what makes him so much better than all the rest._

♥

          “Liiiiii!” Louis sing-songs, entering the penthouse with Harry (who happens to be holding all the baggage– _oops_ ) steps behind on the phone with his Mum–the Alpha has talked more to Jay then Louis even has. “Liii _yum!_ I’m back for you!”

From the hallway footsteps start in Louis’s direction. “What are you going on–?”

All but squealing, Louis shoots in course of Liam’s voice, and is sure he’s going to slam into the wall or something when someone–probably Liam–grabs him around the waist.

“Liam!” he cries again, then brings his arms around his best mate’s waist, inhaling the scented cologne that’s so known to him, even now. “Where have you been?!”

Chuckling, the other Alpha hugs him back (Louis chooses to ignore the answering growl that comes from nearby). “Lou, I’ve been literally doors down from you.”

“I’ve been neglecting you, Li,” Louis grumbles, upset with himself though he reaches up a bit to pinch the Alphas right nipple, ignoring Liam’s yelp. “Why did you let me do that?!”

“You’ve been busy! I wanted to make sure you made this trip worthwhile! Even without me. Everything’s changing. You’re moving on with Harry and I understand that you don’t have time–,”

“Don’t you dare say it, Liam Payne,” Louis warns, “Or I will kick you.”

“But I think–,”

Louis lifts his leg and kicks Liam in the leg (quite harder than he’d intended). Groaning and wincing, the Alpha crumbles a bit, “ _Jesus, Lou!”_

When Liam bends to rub his leg, Louis grasps his chin in both hands, making sure to keep his gaze wide and sincere. “I don’t know where you got the absurd idea that I have no time for you anymore, but get it out of your head right now, yeah? I have Harry, but I had _you_ first, okay? Liam. Liam is Louis’s best friend. And Louis loves Liam.” And he’s so sincere that his voice softens, grasp unbreakable.

In the kitchen (the entrance is some feet from where Louis holds Liam’s scruffy face) the fridge slams shut, bottles rattling at the force, and there’s one, threatening growl. _Oh, God, Harry, get over this ‘caveman-me’ jig, because Liam’s not going anywhere and neither am I._

Louis glares in that direction, and says instead, “Harry, get out already!”

“What?!” the Alpha exclaims in disbelief. “I’ll have you know I’m making–,”

“Smoothies, I know! And I don’t care! You’re making too much noise, slamming things and moping! Go make smoothies somewhere else!”

“I’m not–,”

“If you don’t find somewhere else,” Louis threatens quietly, “I am going upstairs and I am going into Liam’s room _alone,_ just me and him, _closing and locking_ the door so I can continue my discussion _there.”_

This time the threat (as he’s very serious) seems to work as Harry growls again, grumbling under his breath as his footsteps stalk in the other direction, fading until inaudible. Dubiously, Louis releases Liam’s face and quirks his eyebrows at the Alpha, whispering conspiratorially, “You’re my eyes, Li, like old times. Make sure he really left. I don’t trust ‘m as far as I can throw him…and that’s not at all.”

“You really think he’s still there? But we heard his footsteps–,”

At this, Louis laughs out loud, throwing his head back before saying, “Liam, you’re too gullible sometimes.”

Shushing him, the Alpha steps away, to where the entrance is, then speaks normally, “Coast is clear.”

“Phew. Now that he’s gone,” Louis murmurs calmly, opening his arms, “Gimme hugs.”

“Are you sure–?”

“Liam,” Louis grumbles, opening his arms wider, “ _Gimme hugs! Now!”_

Sighing in defeat, the Alpha wraps him up in a warm, achingly familiar embrace. Resting his cheek on the Alphas shoulder, Louis smiles, murmuring, “I feel like it’s been forever since we proper hugged. Or talked. We should talk.”

“We should. But I don’t really feel up to it.”

“Liam?!” Louis gasps in mock-disbelief. “Not up to discussing _feelings?_ Why I never.”

“Oh, shut up,” Liam mutters, nose buried in Louis’s hair. “I’m just…remembering what you feel like.”

In response Louis’s eyebrows crease. “What?”

“You know,” the Alpha mumbles, the sound muffled, “I never noticed before, but it’s different, hugging Zayn. More…intimate somehow.”

“I’d sure hope so.”

“Yeah,” Liam laughs quietly. “Sorry, Lou, but I’d rather be hugging him right now.”

Scandalised, Louis screeches (a bit horrified and saddened because had Liam not missed him at all?) “What?! HOW COULD YOU? I THOUGHT I WAS YOUR FAVOURITE FOREVER!”

“I changed my mind.”

Louis sighs. “I’m glad you’re happy again, Li.”

“I’m glad you’re happy again, Lou. And I’m glad I’m over you, too.”

Now the Omega smiles sadly. “I’m glad you’re over me too. Or this hug would be quite weird.”

“And Harry might skin me alive. Marked you up proper, that animal has.” Louis flushes at this, mentally reminding himself to ask Niall to do something about that.

“I think I’d be in more trouble, actually. Zayn’s _dangerous._ I mean he makes Harry shut up. That’s almost impossible. I don’t even have that ability. God, I used to be so jealous of him, ya know.”

“Really?” Liam chuckles, almost pleased. “I used to be insanely jealous of Harry, too. Was kinda worried he’d gotten to Zayn’s heart first. _And knew he got to yours first, as well._ Which ouch! Pride battered. I was a battered Alpha, Lou!”

At this, Louis giggles, nuzzling the Alphas shoulder. “Oh hush. You’re quite the catch, too. And Zayn would be _mad_ not to see it. Me? Nah. I’m not such a loss. You can be proud to have Zayn’s name scarred into your back. Harry can’t so. And anyway, I was worried Zayn had gotten to Harry’s heart first,” Louis admits, sighing sadly.

“I want to say _you’re being foolish,_ but I know that will only hurt your self-esteem worse.”

“Gee, how considerate,” Louis mumbles self-consciously.

“You know that’s not true, though. Or you should. Any _sane_ Alpha would be honored to have your name scarred into his or her back. Harry not excluded.”

Louis sighs again, not believing those words for a second. “Stop.”

“Okay.”

“We worry a lot,” Louis decides, breaking the slightly tense silence.

“We always have.”

“I worry _for you_ most,” Louis breathes, poking Liam in the cheek. “I want you to be happy…but I don’t want you to forget about me, either. Is that selfish?”

“Nah,” Liam presses a chaste, affectionate kiss to his hair, plucking the flower-crown away to nuzzle there. “That’s not selfish at all. I won’t forget about my best mate. The silly boy who once let Niall smear ketchup on his upper-lip and pretended to pass out with a nose bleed? Traumatized me, you really did. I was so petrified.”

Louis giggles. “It was Niall’s idea! I was the victim, too! Innocent little blind Louis doing Niall’s bidding. And don’t you play innocent either! You petrified _me,_ pretending to be stung by a wasp.”

“That really happened!”

“I know,” Louis laughs, delighted. “But it was quite funny, _cry baby Liam._ ”

With a haughty sniff, the Alpha pinches his side. “Yeah, well, it hurt.”

“I’m still here for you, Li,” Louis whispers, serious now. “I won’t ever _not_ want you around. You’re always going to be my best friend and have that place in my heart.”

“Even with Harry?”

“As perfect as my Alpha is, he’s not my best friend, that spot's reserved. It’s better that way, too. I mean…he hasn’t watched over me as a child, he didn’t hold me in a hospital bed after countless surgeries, he hasn’t protected me in the way you did, even at age fourteen. And I won’t ever forget what you did for me, what you went through _with me,_ and how you stayed despite the countless times I tried to push you away. You’re my bestest friend, Liam Payne, and I love you unconditionally, just not like I…” _say it Lou, its Liam, you can tell him._ “Just not like I love Hazza.”

“Okay, Lou,” Liam breathes back, bringing him closer for another minute. “I won’t say anything about our past. I won’t say anything about the fact that I am the first person you’ve admitted you’re in love, too. But I will say I’m still here for you, Lou. I won’t ever _not_ want you around. You’re always going to have that place in my heart, best-friend benefits.”

“Even with Zayn?” Louis asks shyly.

“As perfect as my Omega to-be is, he’s not my best friend, that spot's reserved. It’s better that way, too. He isn’t the only Omega who let me watch over him and boss him about as children. He isn’t the _only person_ who showed up to my birthday party when nobody else did. He isn’t the Omega who introduced me to Niall, the third light of my life, and made sure I wasn’t ever lonely. And I won’t ever forget what _you_ did for me, what _we went through together,_ whether it be long, long hospital nights or Christmas decorations because I didn’t have any siblings close to my age to do it with. And you never stopped thanking me or apologising though I’ve told you time and time again that I love you _unconditionally,_ just not like I am coming to love Zayn.”

Heart swelling, Louis’s smile is watery as he mumbles, “Okay. Love you, Li.”

“Love you more, Lou.”

“Can you feeeel the looovee toniggghtt?” an Irish accent snivels from some distance away. “Cause I can see what’s happening! Nobody loves Niall anymore! The trios down to two! Disaster in the air.”

“Awe, Ni,” Louis whines, jerking away and turning his head in direction of the Irish lad’s forlorn voice. “Nooo! Come here! Come here right now!”

“No! You both obviously are managing fuckin’ well _without_ _me_! In perfect harmony!”

“Niall, don’t be that way,” Liam murmurs quietly, opening one arm. “C’mere, babe. Come love us.”

And that’s really all it takes for the Irish boy to come scrambling into their arms, fitting between them (like before, when he felt like Liam was giving Louis too much attention) so that Liam holds both Niall and Louis, one arm around each Omegas waist. “Louis loves Niall and Liam.”

“Louis, what did I–?!”

“Liam loves Niall and Louis.”

“Li!” Niall starts, sounding cutely betrayed.

“Come on, Ni, you know you wanna…”

Sighing, Ireland mumbles, “Niall loves Louis and Liam, too.” And Louis smiles lovingly, kissing the Irish lads cheek. “There we go.”

There’s a while that they stand like this, exchanging the same old stories and memories until it feels like Niall and Louis and Liam again. Like old times. Like _them._

♥

                The rest of the afternoon flies by in a flurry. Between picking the girls’ and Mums gifts, picking up the pottery, lunch and Louis having his moment with Liam and Niall (which Harry can’t help but think is cute, understanding that the two needed to reconnect the way Zayn and Harry have done for years), repacking (they’d procrastinated, all of them, even Liam)  it’s unbelievably hectic. Until, twenty minutes _after_ two, they’re rushing out the penthouse, leaving a trail of socks (that are falling from Louis’s bag until Harry catches up and zips the bloody thing) and grumbles.

And they’re (meaning Harry and Liam) are tossing the luggage into the boot of Harry’s Range Rover (there’s a driver wisely waiting for them to get their shit together in the driver’s seat) until Niall kisses both of his hands, extending them and wailing, “Au revoir, Paris!”  And here comes the dramatics as Ireland dissolves into tears, sniveling and draping himself over Louis’s back. “ _Doomed! Doomed by reality! To perish in–,”_

“Will someone _please_ shut him up?” Zayn grumbles, looking tired and disgruntled. Smiling fondly, Harry pats his shoulder. “Embrace it, Z. Embrace the Irish charm.”

“Charm,” his best mate sneers, though it’s not venomous, simply annoyed. All the while Harry chooses to ignore the death-glare he receives from Liam, pointed at where his hand rests on Zayn’s shoulder. “There is nothing charming about that.”

“Awe, come ‘ere, Zaynie,” Louis coos, extending one arm. Unable to see Zayn’s dry, unimpressed look, Louis continues obliviously, “Come, come. Don’t be shy. Come get some Louislove.”

Sighing, the other Omega goes over to Louis, seemingly helpless to the boys allure as Niall begins to cheer, holding the both of them around their waists. “I love you guys! Best lads ever. Except Liam. Liam can go die in a ditch.”

“Hey now–,” Liam starts, looking offended.

“If Liam goes to die in a ditch then I follow,” Harry declares, grinning at the other Alpha, whose eyebrows are raised skeptically, like he suspects Harry would be the one to dump his body there. _Jesus,_ Harry thinks, _sticking up for you. Points for effort, anyone?_

“Niall,” Louis scolds. “You take that back. I will kill you and then drop you off in a ditch if Haz goes.”

“Louis,” Josh scolds right back. “You lay one hand on my baby and–,”

“And _nothing,_ ” the Alpha retorts, defensive in seconds.

“Okay. I’m going to diffuse this situation before it gets started,” Liam states. “Nobody is going to be killed or die in a ditch. Perhaps a plane crash, but not a ditch.”

“Gee, thanks, Li,” Zayn rolls his eyes.

“Way to kill the mood,” Niall agrees, shaking his head pitifully.

“What mood?”

 _Here we go again_ –everyone begins to bicker back and forth with Liam continuously asking, “ _what mood?!_ ” until Harry’s three seconds from finding a ditch to bury himself alive in. But it wouldn’t do any good to say so. Instead, he finishes up on the luggage alone, then comes up behind Louis, splaying one hand on his belly and dragging him backwards, away from the altercation. “Hey!” Louis starts, pouting. “I wasn’t finished–,”

“You’re the fuel to their fire, baby,” the Alpha claims, absorbing the Omegas answering shiver. “Once you’re gone, the others will follow. Trust me.”

Brilliant as Harry is, it’s no surprise that once they’ve entered the vehicle, Louis curled up into his side (as close as the seatbelt will allow) the others are not even five minutes behind, still grumbling to themselves. This time, Liam opts to take passenger, which leaves Niall pressed against Louis (though there’s more than enough space for him _not to be_ ) as Zayn and Josh join.

The drive to the skyline isn’t exactly stretchy, thirty minutes tops as it isn’t rush-hour. When they’ve arrived, the preflight team begins to gather their luggage, disappearing continuously. Through preflight procedures, Louis remains curled up into his side, tracing the outline of the ring he’d gotten him where it’s worn on his right hand. “I’m sad,” the Omega whispers, and it takes Harry by surprise, as he’d gotten a bit lost in his mind.

Now the sadness bleeds through the bond. Soothingly, Harry brushes the fringe from Louis’s eyes.

“Don’t be,” Harry tells him quietly as everything but Louis fades out (even Niall’s obnoxious chomping on crisps and Liam’s cheerful humming). Louis’s eyes are so wide, vulnerability swimming in their blue depths and the Alpha thinks he’s drowning there.

“But…” Louis struggles. “What about LouisandHarry?”

“Doesn’t change, love. It will still be LouisandHarry, only back at home.”

“The adventures of LouisandHarry in France have come to an end though,” the Omega mumbles sullenly.

“Nah. The season is over. But we’ll continue the adventures in the next one.”

“Which will be?”

“Hmm. Summer?”

“Why not winter? That’s closer.”

“It is,” Harry allows. “But your birthday is coming up. And that means you’ll be up to peak soon, sweetheart.” _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Now the Omegas cheeks flush beautifully and his mouth parts. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” And he’s not surprised by how low his voice sounds as his cock strains in his trousers at the very thought. _Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking hell._ “But we shouldn’t dwell on that.” _Fuck I want to dwell on that._

Sighing, Louis nuzzles his throat, nodding there before asking, “So summer?”

“Summer.”

♥

                “Pay attention to me,” Louis demands, bringing his hands to the keyboard of Harry’s laptop and fiddling with all the keys–not really caring that he’s probably messing up some important document.

There’s a low hum from deep in the Alphas throat. Louis likes that sound. “I am paying attention to you. ‘M always paying attention to you,” Harry claims quietly, taking his hands from the keyboard and bringing them into Louis’s lap.

Jutting his bottom lip, Louis grumbles, “Really? Then why haven’t you spoken to me since five minutes ago?”

Shutting the laptop, the Alpha murmurs, obviously amused (Louis is not amused at all), “I’m sorry, kitten. I’m trying to be a responsible adult.”

As his eyebrows furrow, the Omega mutters, “Well stop. We all know you’re a big baby.”

“Mmm,” the Alpha hums again (Louis _really, really_ likes that sound), then he’s being pulling into Harry’s lap, where he curls up happily, resting his head on the Alphas shoulder and playing with the chains hanging around his throat. “I think someone needs a kip. Tired baby?”

“No, _baby,_ ” Louis mumbles, yanking on the longest necklace. “Not every time I pout am I tired.”

“Then what are you?” Somehow the Alpha manages to sound comforting.

Burying his face in the older’s throat, Louis breathes softly, “Pouty. Very pouty.”

“Why?”

Now the Omega bites his lip, slightly embarrassed. “C’mon, kitten,” Harry urges quietly. “You have my undivided attention now. Tell me.”

Face flushed, Louis whispers, wrapping the chains in his fingers. “Well…later hasn’t come yet.”

Just like that the Alpha tenses, and the hand at Louis’s hip tightens. All the Omega wants to do is rub himself against the Alpha, but knows better because there are others nearby, they’re however many thousand feet in the air, and Harry’s already told him _no._ Reminded of this, Louis pouts more, upset as his fingers trail, light and careful, down the Alphas bare chest (his shirt is practically all the way open, buttoned only at the end) to his stomach, feeling the muscles jump.

“I don’t know why not,” he says, voice deliberately soft, considering lowering his hands more. But he’s not that brave. “You said you want to give me whatever I want…”

“This is different,” Harry answers tightly.

At this, the Omega smiles softly, “Again, I don’t know how. Josh gives Niall whatever he wants, _this_ included. Same with Liam, I’m sure.”

“Josh and Niall, Liam and Zayn, aren’t LouisandHarry.” 

Sighing, Louis mutters petulantly, “I never said they were.”

Against him, the Alpha unexpectedly relaxes, then tips Louis’s face in two fingers. Louis schools his expression, rounding his eyes and poking out his bottom lip. “Why this?” Harry asks quietly. “Out of all the things…”

In exasperation, Louis huffs, crossing his arms, “You can’t expect me to answer that.”

“I do.” _Stupid, arrogant Alpha._

“Nevermind,” the Omega mumbles, turning his face to hide his disappointment. There’s no way he’s about to tell Harry _anything_ about how he’s never desired anyone this way, never even touched himself, and never _wanted_ too. It’s new. And Louis wants to explore this, wants to feel desired more than anything else.

“Don’t be that way, Lou…” _Honestly,_ does Harry lack common sense?

“Don’t ask me to be _okay_ with the fact that you don’t–,” _desire me enough to touch me, or let me touch you. Don’t desire me enough show me how to…please you._

“Don’t what, love?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I want to be held. In silence.”

With an entirely frustrated sigh, the Alpha shakes his head, but wisely lets it go. And the Omega doesn’t know whether to be extremely grateful or dissatisfied. Sighing, Louis rests his head on Harry’s shoulder and thinks about what’s going to happen back at home. _Home_.

Home isn’t home.  
Not anymore.

Home is Harry.  
Harry is home.

And that little realisation sucks. Because _no,_ Harry _isn’t_ home. Or he shouldn’t be. Louis shouldn’t depend on the Alpha this way. But he does. And it really sucks. Because he knows Harry’s always going to have these pieces of him–he only hopes the Alpha will handle them with care. They’re fragile, and so is Louis–always has been.

As to quiet these blaring thoughts, the Omega nuzzles Harry’s throat, inhales his fascinating scent, and purrs, then raises his face and kitten-licks the Alpha throat, grinning when Harry’s breath hitches a bit.

“Hazza?” he whispers against his skin.

“Mm.”

“Take me home.”

“I am.”

“No, I mean…to yours.”

And hope blossoms in Louis’s chest when the Alpha says nothing, holding him impossibly closer instead. For the rest of the ride, Louis’s grin doesn’t leave his lips. He’s winning. Of that he’s sure.

♥

                “Take me home,” Louis pants, flushed and burning in the Alphas lap. One of Harry’s hands leaves his hip to splay over his thigh, spreading them wider, so the Omega’s flush against him, bum nestling the bulge in Harry’s trousers. White hot sensation spreads through him, pooling in his belly, as his head tips back, fingers twining around the Alphas curls as he wriggles instinctively.

Louis doesn’t know how this happened exactly. Or well he _does._ Because the opportunity had arose. Of course he’d taken it. Now they’re in one of these posh, spacious cars, and there’s someone driving them, but the back’s closed off from view (according to Niall, who’d marveled over his, giving Louis his spark, _“This is genius. Private. I’d give it to you in here, babe._ ”) Which gross. But with the others having already been dropped home, they’re the last things on his mind. No, his mind is focused on _HarryHarryHarry._

“No,” the Alpha growls against his throat, sitting up straighter to pull Louis impossibly closer, probably smearing the cover-up Niall had specifically applied to cover the very marks Harry continues licking and sucking and rubricating at his sensitive skin. Clutching the Alphas curls, Louis ruts his hips, whining at the rough pull of the lace he’s wearing against his arousal. “You’re so… _mean._ ”

In response, Harry nips at his jaw, and the Omega grinds down harder, purposefully, tugging on his hair so the Alpha raises his face and returns to his mouth. Flower petals from his crown are beginning to come loose at the seams and fluttering between them, probably landing in Harry's curls. Groaning low in his throat, Harry grasps his hips in both hands, controlling his movements, slowing them. And Louis thinks the Alpha’s going to give it to him here (somehow the crown goes tumbling from his head and who knows where–the Omega doesn’t really care). “ Take me home,” he breathes again, “Make me scream your name.

“Keep talkin’ like that baby,” Harry growls, biting his bottom lip hard enough that Louis moans so loud it’s almost embarrassing. “And I’m going to take you over my knee and spank the living hell out of you.”

At the words, the pulsing heat coils tight in his abdomen, and Louis rocks desperately, chasing his approaching orgasm, mewling breathlessly, “Harry, Harry, Harry…”

Abruptly, the Alpha stops his movements completely. _No._  “Louis. Don’t you dare cum.”

Whimpering, the Omega pants, going limp in Harry’s lap as the tell-tale heat begins to fade, the humming in his veins following as tears spring to his eyes.

“’M sorry, baby,” Harry says softly, stroking his sweat-matted fringe and flushed cheeks. “I can’t have you a sticky mess in your trousers when we arrive at your house.”

Hot, angry tears eke passed his eyes.

“’M so sorry, darling,” the Alpha murmurs softly again, which only makes Louis whine, hips twitching again.

Sighing, Harry sets him back on the cars cushiony seat. Just like that. _Stupid Alpha self-control._ Why, out of all the Alphas, does he have to want a Councils Alpha?

Lying back on the seats, Louis tosses an arm over his flushed, wet face as he tries to calm his restless heart. In his trousers, he’s aching, begging to be touched. And it’s so horrible fresh tears start up.

“I hate you,” he mumbles, all breathy and soft, voice shaking with tears.

“No, you don’t,” the Alpha breathes, shifting his weight like he sometimes does when Louis tries to play the whole seductive role. And idly Louis thinks maybe Harry’s uncomfortable, and that’s why he’s shifting. But then again, what does he know?

“No, I don’t,” Louis agrees grudgingly. “But I feel like I should.”

“Why?”

“You know,” Louis says, “For s-someone so brilliant, you’re outrageously c-clueless sometimes.”

“No. You just confuse me.”

Now the Omega frowns. “Why?”

“You’re…erratic. Sometimes you get very angry, and I don’t understand why. Speaking of, we _will_ be talking about last night.”

“What’s there to talk ‘bout?” Louis flushes–all that comes to mind when he thinks of last night is experiencing his first orgasms, and the white-hot pleasure and–down there gives a feeble twitch and _here come the tears again._ He’s so… _frustrated_.

“What happened? What upset you?”

“You did,” Louis whispers directly. “You always do. Because you have my emotions frazzled or something. Like...I can’t feel _sure_ of myself. And then Niall told me…about how I a-acted the night before…And you didn’t. Why didn’t you, Haz?” Shame washes through him at the remembrance. Once again, he feels so naïve. And young. Even though Harry’s only a couple years older, Louis’s been sheltered and knows nothing about relationships or pleasure or love as this is his first experiences with all the above. But honesty is key to him.

“Oh, love,” Harry breathes, and then he’s being pulled back into the Alphas lap, where he tries to curl up even as the Alpha plants sweet, careful kisses over his face. “I’m sorry. Just…I’m trying to protect you. From myself. And it’s a constant battle between my will and my Alpha’s. I didn’t want to…I didn’t want _you_ to remember that I’d promised more and couldn’t go through with it because I am constantly thinking about giving you my knot. I want to. And when you’re begging me, and tempting me this way, it’s nearly impossible to not give in to that side of me. Impossible not to get my cock inside you, and knot you and get you pregnant. Jesus, I’m so hard thinking about it–about filling you up with my pups.  But that’s not the way I want to go about it. You deserve more than that, especially at sixteen. I…I don’t want to hurt you that way. I want to take this slow…And I am sorry for withholding that from you, withholding any of it. It wasn’t an intentional lie.”

Louis stops breathing–his head swims with the words _knot_ and ‘ _cock inside him’_ and _pups._ Harry wants to make love to him. And knot him. And get him…pregnant. At the thought, his Omega purrs, and Louis abruptly wants to bend over and bare his bum in offering. 

“Oh,” Louis manages, trying to think beyond those details and to the real issue. But his Omega is whining wantonly. “Oh,” he breathes again. Then, once more, panicky this time, “Oh. Oh. Oh my God.”

“Yeah,” Harry laughs bitterly. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to do that too you, baby. I swear…I can’t help those thoughts. And it’s confusing. I’ve never had these urges. Never wanted any of that. You make me crazy, I told you.”

“Would…” Louis swallows, then blurts before he loses his nerve, “Would you bond me, too?”

“Fuck, yes,” the Alpha groans, hips flexing a bit. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’d bond you in a heartbeat. With my cock buried in your tight little hole, and my knot getting you full of my babies.”

Wide-eyed, flushed, Louis breathes, “Oh.”

“But I won’t,” Harry grips his chin in two fingers, baring his face–whatever he finds there gives him the wrong idea because when he continues his voice is almost anxious. “I won’t, Lou. Please, don’t be scared. I can control my Alpha…but it’s a bit more difficult where you’re concerned.”

Louis’s answering whisper is his Omega’s. “I’m not scared, Alpha. What if I want that too? I think I want that too.”

“No, love,” the Alpha says quietly, stroking his bottom lip. “You’re sixteen. And you’re hormonal.” _I’m sixteen and in love._

“I–,”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me otherwise. It’s not the time. I’m trying to apologise for the way I act sometimes. To apologise for keeping my privacy too close to me and hurting you because of it.”

Louis sighs, holding up a finger to indicate he’s thinking through his response. There are a few minutes of silence before the Omega manages, “Okay. Your privacy is _yours,_ Haz. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Not until you really want to, or you’re comfortable with the idea. All I’m asking is that you don’t lie to protect me or whatever, Haz. You promised remember? No leaving me in the dark. Even if it’s better off–which it isn’t, but still. If this is going to work, you have to be honest with me, yeah?” When he’s finished, Louis is quite proud that he hadn’t fumbled with the words (because he’s still marveling over the _other_ topic).

“I swear on my honor, no more withholding. Honesty.”

“Thank you.”

“I’d do anything to keep you, Lou.” The ragged emotion in Harry’s voice makes his heart _soar._ And he thinks that there’s that same love in Harry’s voice that Louis feels in his heart, humming in his veins. But it’s obvious the Alpha isn’t aware of this, and maybe Louis is completely wrong, but for now he’ll let himself believe it’s there anyway.

“Hmm,” Louis says ponderously. “When you say anything…?”

“No,” Harry murmurs decisively. Louis really isn’t getting his way tonight. “Not tonight.”

“Fine,” the Omega pouts. “Be stupid.”

“I always am,” there’s that satisfied grin in Harry’s voice that makes Louis smile, yanking playfully at his chains.

“’M glad. I love stupid Harry.” Once again, he slips up, but the Alpha either doesn’t realize the depth to the words, or doesn’t care because he replies easily, “Then we’re both happy.”

Before the Omega gets the chance to counter that because he’d be _much_ happier were the Alpha kissing him, and touching him intimately, and grinding against him like last night, the vehicle comes to an abrupt halt. “Home at last,” the Alpha murmurs, opening the car door and grabbing Louis’s hand so he stumbles outside first, Harry seconds behind.

“I don’t want to go back to reality,” Louis breathes, wrapping himself in the Alpha again, ignoring the driver who’s opening the boot and starts unpacking what’s left of the luggage. Smoothing his fringe, Harry taps his chin, “Chin up, baby. Reality isn’t so bad. I still have you.” _You’d really have me if you bonded me._

“And you still have me.”

“That’s my lovely boy.” And his Omega absolutely blows up with pride as he grins stupidly, pushing the Alpha away to declare, “I’m not _your_ boy. I’m simply a lovely boy.”

“No. You’re mine. My lovely, sweet, and smart-mouthed Omega.”

“So you must be mine then? My frog-faced, annoying, infuriating and idiotic Alpha.”

“Sure, if that’s what you really think.” And there’s something extremely…self-deprecating in the Alpha’s voice. There’s that side to him he doesn’t show often. And Louis feels extremely special when the Alpha unveils this side to _him_. But right now he’s more hurt that Harry might actually think he’s any of those absurd things. Even though sometimes he _is_ infuriating and acts silly, that doesn’t make him any less perfect. Not in Louis’s opinion–not at all.

“No. That’s not what I think at all, actually. I think you’re my gorgeous, brilliant, driven, emotionally unstable yet still so kind, Alpha.”

There’s a short-lived silence, then he’s being enveloped in Harry’s ever constant heat, crushed by the strength of the hug but giggling anyway as the Alpha asks, oddly tentatively, “You think that? Really?”

“Yes, Harry,” he breathes honestly, keeping his eyes open for the Alpha to search and find the same honesty in his voice. “You’re all those things and more.”

“I’m not. But thank you, kitten.”

Louis sighs and turns away when Harry sets him back on his feet, wondering how Harry can be so doubtful of himself and arrogant all the same. Walking to the gates, the Omega opens them, then walks forward, recalling the six steps and the drive until he gets to the door where he rings the bell.

It’s not even seconds later that the door flies open and there’s a flurry of voices as Louis’s tackled by five bodies, three relatively small, one almost Louis’s height, the other, most familiar is his Mum’s as her perfume tinges the air.

“Louis!”  
“How was it!”  
“You’re on magazines, Boo!”  
“You’re _famous,_ Lou!”

Then, before Louis can get in a word, Daisy and Phoebe are squealing, running away from him and to Harry (as they’re calling _“Curly! Curly!_ ” it’s easy to guess where they’re headed).

“I feel the love, girls!” he calls fondly as he’s hugged by Fliss full on, and she murmurs quiet, sweet words. Kissing her cheeks, Louis shoos her inside, promising to play dollies with her later tonight. Lottie embraces him next, smoothing his hair and murmuring evilly into his ear, “There are pictures of Harry coping a feel, Lou. You’re secretly a slut, I know it.”

Flushing down his neck, Louis bats at the hinds pinching his cheeks, “I hate you,” he hisses.

“No, you don’t. I hid them all from Mum. But we warned, they’ll find her eventually.”

“Oh, God. You sure know how to comfort someone, Lotts,” he whispers right back.

“Hey, I didn’t publicly _snog_ my Alpha.”

“You won’t even have an Alpha. You _are_ an Alpha. And when that time comes around next year, I am going to _laugh_ ‘cause you’re going to cop a feel of your Omega, girl or boy. And then it’ll be _your turn._ ”

Snorting, she starts away, singing, _“And I wiiiillllllll alllllwaaaaays looooooovee Louuuuuu.”_

With a fond sigh, the Omega finally lets Jay pull him into an embrace. “I missed you, babe. Did you have a nice time? You must tell me all about it.”

“I missed you too Mum,” he breathes, holding her tight around the waist (dimly listening to the girls shrieking and laughing as they receive their gifts, thanking Harry profusely as his Alpha replies, “Thank Louis, lovelies.” Like Louis was the one who’d spent over a thousand pounds on the antique, surely beautiful French dollies, and bought Lottie a bloody gold iPhone–she’ll likely fall in love with Harry when she finds out–and so much more unnecessary stuff. Rest assured Louis had thrown a tantrum over this. “It was…amazing.”

Ruffling his hair, his Mum kisses his cheek before calling, “Carful there, girls!”

“I got ‘em, Jay!” Harry calls back, and Louis gives his Mum a questioning look.

“Daisy is on his shoulders. And Phebs is clinging to his leg.”

Grinning fondly, the Omega shakes his head.

“I’ll give you two a moment,” Jay tells him and Louis loves her so much in this moment, smiling gratefully when Jay calls to the girls, “Come on, girls! Grab your things, and thank Harry again.”

Once that’s over his Mum gathers the two, then the driver takes Louis’s luggage inside and the door clicks shut behind him. “Thank you,” Louis mumbles, somewhere between shy and weirdly embarrassed, hoping the other (Beta, he thinks) hadn’t heard anything or been aware of what was happening. _Oh God._  

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Tomlinson. Have a nice night.” Shortly following that is the sound of a car door shutting in the distance, then its Harry and Louis. LouisandHarry. With the privacy, Louis smiles timidly in the Alphas general direction, keeping his eyes lowered.

In seconds Harry’s in front of him, kissing him breathless, tonguing at his bottom lip until Louis’s hands are tangled in his ridiculous flamingo shirt, kissing him back eagerly, parting his mouth so their tongues meet. It’s wet and warm and sends warmth through his veins as he sighs.

When the Alpha tears his mouth away, Louis takes gasping breaths, shivering as he rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Can I come see you again?”

“You’re not tired of me by now?” Louis asks hesitantly.

“I never tire of you. Won’t ever.”

“Why don’t you come in then?”

“Not this evening. I don’t want Jay seeing my cock because it’s rather noticeable now. Always is when I breathe in your scent.” At the words, Louis’s breath hitches, heartbeat stuttering in his chest.

“You…You chose to keep it that way.” Not entirely true, his Mums only just gotten him home, and Louis doubts the older Omega would tolerate another night away. Then there’s the little Council guidelines issue–Louis can’t stay at Harry’s. And Harry isn’t even supposed to be allowed in his room, _ever._

“Don’t remind me.”

“I could’ve helped,” Louis whispers, when Harry’s dragged them to the entrance, on his tiptoes so that he presses soft kisses to the Alphas working jaw, thinking it’s unbelievably attractive, how riled up he can get the Alpha.

“Enough. Go inside.” But his mouth brushes Louis’s ear as his voice becomes whisper-soft, “And leave the window unlocked.” Before starting to retract again–before he gets too far, Louis lurches forward, mouth meeting Harry’s full on, body pressing closer as Harry’s hands find his hips.

“Going to pay me a visit?” he asks breathlessly.

“Bloody hell, baby, you’re daring this evening.”

“I’m only giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

“My medicine tastes really fucking good,” it’s almost a groan as the Alpha’s tongue strokes his, making his head spin with Harry’s taste, and Harry’s scent, and Harry’s feel. Just _Harry_.

And he’s about to make an entirely embarrassing noise when, “ _NO FUNNY BUSINESS, YOU TWO._ _NOT AT MY FRONT DOOR._ ”

Groaning, Louis wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, head on the Alpha’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, pleased that it’s thrumming quicker than normal. Chuckling, Harry straps his bag on his shoulder before kissing his cheek swiftly.

“I’m wearing lace,” Louis breathes hastily, before Harry retreats again. “I dunno what colour though. T-Tonight…you could find out. I…I’d really like to know.”

Distancing them, the Alpha snaps, “Inside. Now.”

Biting his bottom lip, Louis sighs, then says louder than necessary, for his Mum to hear, “G’night, H.”

“Sweet dreams, _tease._ ”

Beaming, the Omega kisses him once more, then turns and enters the house, achingly aware of Harry’s eyes following until the doors shut again. There, he shudders, leaning against the door with only seconds to compose himself before the girls pounce him again.

Making good on his promise, Louis plays with Fliss, even letting her paint his nails, not bothering to ask what colour because he’s a bit afraid to find out. They play dollies until Louis is called down an hour later. Kissing her head, the Omega stands, stretches, and then remembers. Blanching, he calls down the hall, “One sec. Mum!”

From there he rushes into his bedroom, closing the door and going into the wardrobe. Breathing deep, calming breaths, the Omega changes, replacing his shirt with one of his many turtle necks, praying his Mum doesn’t notice the change.

Then he nervously ventures below, to the living area, joining Jay on the sofa. Mercifully, the older Omega doesn’t seem to notice, demanding to hear all about the trip. Grasping the distraction, Louis continues on and on until sighing, “’M scared, Mum.”

Serious now, Jay asks, “Why?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, the Omega whispers, “I dunno, Mum. Just…I love him. I love him a lot. And I know it must be written on my face and in my stupid eyes and my actions and…I love him. ‘M scared he won’t ever feel the same, ‘m scared of the Council and the complications…I’m just really scared.” Helpless tears sting in his unresponsive eyes.

“Oh, baby.” Closing the space, Jay pulls him into a warm, loving embrace. Louis sinks into it, calmed by her memorable perfume. “Love’s a scary thing. And sometimes it’s not enough, baby. But you can’t let fear dictate you and ruin it.”

“I know,” he snivels into her shoulder. “I know that. But it doesn’t make it better.”

“Let me ask you, Lou, what if you’re in love with the idea of being in love?”

At this, Louis blinks–thinks _no,_ that’s not it, he’s never had the desire to fall in love. Actually, it’s the opposite, and right now he wishes he _wasn’t,_ because it’s going to break him all over again when the time comes. And then he might not be able to repair the damage. “No. I love _him._ I love his stupid cackle and his horrible attempts at jokes, I love his selflessness and I especially love how he makes me feel like I’m whole inside. Like my vision doesn’t make me any less special. I love _him,_ Mum.”

“Just needed the confirmation, darling,” his Mother murmurs, smoothing his hair affectionately. “And you don’t figure he’s thinking the same way?”

“I know he isn’t. I mean…I know he cares a lot.” _And wants to make love to me, and get me on his knot and pregnant and oh God._ Swallowing, the Omega continues, voice shaky (he hopes his Mum thinks it’s because he’s scared, and not because his belly is full of butterflies), “But…it’s not the same. I want it to be the same.”

“Louis! None of that. You can’t force this, yeah? He’ll figure it out. For the record, I can assure you, even if he doesn’t realize, he’s head over heels for you. It’s in his eyes, babe. I think he worships the ground you walk on.”

This, the Omega really doubts, but giggles stuffily nonetheless. “You think so?”

“Know so. Don’t dwell on this fear, love, it’ll only hurt the relationship. Keep in mind he’s putting in immense effort and risking very much, going against the Council. That means something.” _But for how long will he go against all he knows? His whole world, even._

 _You’re his whole world, silly,_ his Omega assures him. But that’s not reliable, that’s what his Omega wants to be true.

“That’s the problem!” he exclaims, frustration welling up inside him. “I am _not_ going to ruin his potential, Mum. Won’t ruin his entire _life._ I won’t. I would rather let him go now than have to know his entire world’s crumbled because of _me._ ”

There’s one, small stretch of silence. “Let fate take its course, love. Don’t be unreasonable. You’re both young. And have a lot of time to figure everything out. I mean…probably even too young to be thinking about the _L_ word.”

“Oh, Mother,” he groans, sprawling on the sofa now. “Don’t start with that nonsense. I know I am one hundred percent in love.”

Now the older Omega laughs, “Alright, alright. Don’t start with the dramatics. And don’t let me hear about mating or _sex._ You certainly _are_ too young for _that_.”

 _Probably but Harry wants to bond me, and knot me, and make love to me. And wants me have his children. And maybe I want that too, even at sixteen._ Worse things have happened–there was the thirteen year old, now still happily mated at age twenty. Not the best way to go about it, especially not so young, but their society hadn’t taken age into consideration back then. Now though…sixteen is a bit too young. Which fine, still doesn’t change his Omegas inherent need to please an Alpha.  

With heated cheeks, Louis murmurs, quite mischievously, “Grandbabies.”

“Dear God,” his Mum chokes. “Louis Tomlinson, don’t you _dare say that word_ in this household ever again.”

Laughing, the Omega gasps, “I’m only _joking,_ Mum! I’m not having _babies._ I can barely take care of myself.” _For now I am not having babies._

“Good point,” she rises from the sofa, movements suggesting that she’s smoothing out her clothing. “But I was more concerned by how _old_ that makes me look.”

“Grandmum!”

“Louis,” she threatens, and when Louis laughs again, seems to give up. “Come on, get up and keep me company whilst I start on dinner.”

Eagerly, Louis nods, and together they start towards the kitchen.

♥

                Eventually jet-lag catches up to him, and despite it not having been an extensive travel, exhaustion seeps into Louis’s bones. Telling his Mum this, Louis says goodnight to everyone and then drags himself upstairs and into his room.

Sighing, the Omega goes to the window, unlocks it, and leaves it open an inch before grabbing a towel from the cabinetry and a change of clothes. There, he undresses slowly, fiddles with the tap and brushes his teeth thoroughly, using the mouthwash but giving up on flossing when the bathrooms warm from the heat of the shower.

Making use of his scented soaps, Louis soothes the soap into his skin, humming contentedly and completely forgetting the cover-up, not even realising it washes away as well. Outside, the Omega wriggles into his pants, then pulls on the thickest trackies he owns, shrugging into a fuzzy jumper, dumping his worn clothes down the chute, then returning to his room.

Alone, the Omega’s body sinks into the mattress as Louis sighs happily.

“Tired, are we?”

Startled, Louis gasps, sitting up quickly and blinking wildly. “Haz,” he manages after a breathless moment. “You scared me, you prat.”

Through hushed laughter, the Alpha approaches the bed, footfalls muted thuds until he stretches out on the right side. “C’mere.”

Scrambling over, the Omega hums sleepily, allowing the Alpha to pull him into his chest, resting his head there, “How long you been here?”

“Mmm, five minutes or so.” And his hands begin to sooth down Louis’s sides, toying with the fuzzy material of his top.

“Oh,” Louis breathes, inhaling Harry’s scent and purring. “Why so soon?”

“I missed you.”

“Was only a few hours, H.”

There’s a short hum of agreement that causes Louis to unwind more. “We agreed two hours. That was more. I don’t like it.”

With those words, butterflies flutter in his tummy. “But that was when I was out. I was home this time.”

“Thought it applied to any situation.”

“Oh, well that works too, I guess.”

Another low hum that Louis thinks he feels in his bones. “’M glad we’re in agreement.”

Eyes falling shut, Louis breathes, “Mhm.”

“So,” the Alpha begins, drawing circles into his palm. “I was thinking…”

Louis hums, sleep creeping over him. “About?” he yawns.

“When you said those things about me earlier…”

“Mmm.”

“I realized something.”

“Mhm…” the Omega tries to prompt; really it’s an indication that he’s still listening.

“I realized…you make me want to be better. I guess I’d realized this before. But I don’t only want to be better _for you…_ but I want to be better as a person.”

Louis smiles blearily. “Thas’ really…good, Haz. But I think you’re perfect right now…”

“No, kitten, ‘m really not. But I’m going to try with all I’ve got.”

“Okay, baby,” Louis whispers, listening to the love in his voice. “You can do it,” he encourages, lifting one fist halfheartedly.

“That’s the thing, Lou. I don’t think I _can_. Unless I’m motivated. And you…you motivate me. You’re my motivation, Lou.”

Louis frowns. There’s something extremely gloomy in his voice. This is his sad-side, Louis thinks. Rolling onto his side, Louis brushes Harry’s curls back lovingly, kissing his collarbone and huddling close. “Stop thinkin’ so much, Haz. Sleep. Sleep with me.”

“Okay. Alright, kitten. Sweet dreams.”

But the Omega has a hunch Harry’s not going to sleep anytime soon. So instead, he sits up, shakes the tired off and scrubs at his useless eyes to alleviate the pressure. “What are you…?”

“Wait.”

Leaving the bed, Louis goes over to his bedside table, where he keeps paper and pencils (for no reason really, he’s unable to write. But he’s always tried his hand at it, remembers how to form some letters. But he was too young to really comprehend how to write them, and gets irritated rather quickly).

Taking them, and a binder to hold the paper, the Omega climbs back into bed, then into Harry’s lap, his back to the Alphas chest.  “Is the lighting good enough? Cause I want you to teach me how to write your name, Haz. I wanna write your name and I dunno how to really write so.”

There’s no hesitance–where his hand holds the pencil, Harry’s larger one closes over as the Alpha breathes, “Lemme lead first, yeah?”

Determined, Louis nods. At first it’s difficult, because Louis’s trying to work the lines in his mind, to remember how, but it’s _difficult._ When they’ve written ‘ _Harry’_ too many times to count, Louis murmurs, “Alright, let me try.”

Gripping the pencil, Louis pokes out his tongue in concentration, going over the lines to form the letters to the best of his ability. When he’s finished, he knows it’s horrid because his mind had blanked on the _Y_ and the lines to the _H_ don’t connect.

Disappointed, Louis hangs his head as Harry looks it over.

“’S not so bad, love.”

“It’s shit.”

“Language.”

“Sorry,” Louis mumbles, flushing.

“It’s not shit, anyway. It’s a bit messy, and you forgot how to write the _Y,_ yeah?”

Embarrassed, Louis nods.

“That’s okay. It’s your first time.” Then when Louis doesn’t respond, “Hey, show me those pretty eyes.”

Too tired to fight the command, Louis does so, and bites his lip as Harry reads whatever swims in them. “Tomorrow we’ll try again, okay? Now, you need to sleep. You’ll be exhausted in the morning.”

Willing, the Omega nods, smiling shyly as the Alpha cocoons him in the blankets, and holds him closer than before. “I realized somethin’ too, Hazza.”

“Mm. What’s that?”

“We’re better together,” Louis whispers before succumbing to sleep.

♥

                Soft lips brush across Louis’s temple, leaving sweet, tender kisses in their wake, and a part of him wants to turn and respond, but mostly he wants to stay asleep. Louis moans and burrows into his pillow.

“Louis, wake up.” Harry’s voice is soft, persuasive.

“No,” he moans.

“’M going to leave in a bit.” And he sounds amused.

Louis opens his eyes reluctantly, greeted by more darkness, but realizing all at once that the Alpha’s leaning over him, probably staring.

“Come on sleepy-head. At least listen to me.” As he speaks, he stoops down to kiss his hair again. Of course this gives Harry the Omegas undivided attention. “I will drop by in a little while, yeah? Make sure to hide these,” he murmurs, lithe fingers lightly caressing the patterns at Louis’s throat.

“Where’re you going?” he asks quietly, not really listening.

“London. Have to take care of my share of business.”

“Mmm.”

“And I think your Mum’s awake. Spend some time with her, yeah?”

Louis smiles sleepily. “’Kay.”

“Don’t go back to sleep for long, if you do you won’t be able to sleep tonight, and there’s school tomorrow. So don’t sleep in long, or you’ll be in trouble,” he threatens, but his tone is mild as he kisses Louis briefly, then rises from the mattress, fumbling around (probably putting on his shoes and jewelry).

“Miss you, Haz,” he breathes before shutting his eyes and hugging his pillow. There isn’t a response as the Alpha exits, leaving him blinking sleep from his eyes in the cool, stark room.

There’s a while that Louis slips into unconsciousness again, but too soon his dreams become memories, and he forces himself into wakefulness, bolting upright and clutching the pillow with Harry’s scent caught in the material. Pulling deep, calming breaths, the Omega shakes the scare away, grabbing another outfit. A simple (black, according to where it’s placed in the wardrobe) shirt, tights, and fuzzy socks (because it’s chilly, or maybe because he’s so used to being around Harry, who’s _always_ warm). Then the Omega steals into the bathroom, going through his morning methods hastily.

While he’s drying himself after his enjoyable but far too brief shower, he realizes it’s oddly quiet in the hall and wonders if the girls have gone on play dates. Dressing, Louis bats at his fringe, brushing it a bit, and then feels his cheeks, grateful that they’re not quite so heated anymore.

Dashing back into his bedroom, Louis straightens up the bed sheet, spraying too much body-spray in the air (in case his Mum decides to come up for whatever reason and smells Harry). In fifteen minutes he’s finished and decides, after knocking on Fliss’ door and receiving no answer, hearing no other noise, the girls are out.

Heading downstairs, the Omega is grateful for the privacy. Until he’s really, really not.

Downstairs his Mother is waiting for him and as soon as he sets foot on ground level, Jay says quietly, startling him, “Louis. I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

♥

  
                Throughout the morning, Harry goes through five cups of coffee, and his eyes are a bit bloodshot, shadows underneath them, indicating the lack of sleep. It’s busy, and he’s signing and reading through documents and contracts, missing whatever his assistant chatters on and on about until it’s about four in the evening and he’s had enough.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Alpha dismisses Gretchen and decides to go through his Twitter feed. There, realisation comes over him.

First: there’s that bloody picture. The one from yesterday morning. And _fuck_ there’s millions of hearts and comments and retweets. So many comments and retweets that Harry doesn’t even think to begin reading them.

Second:he’s not seen his Father in a week. A week he hasn’t heard from the older Alpha. And he can already see what’s coming to him.

Three: in his haste his mind hadn’t registered the buzz. The bloody buzz that’s tightened over his skin, feeding emotions. Louis’s emotions– _dread, embarrassment, fear._

There’s not a seconds hesitance, every thought not concerning Louis becomes nonexistence. Within minutes Harry’s left the building, strides down the street to his car, and leaves. He speeds through London, and into their town, making the three hour drive in almost _one._ And though he calls Louis, there’s no answer, which doesn’t surprise him, but it sure as fuck irritates him.

Once he’s parked, rather shit, but fuck it, Harry runs a hand through his hair, and hopes he doesn’t look the mess he feels, before walking to the door. When he goes to ring, the entrance opens first.

Before him, Jay stands, mouth in a straight, grim line, eyes raging, cutting right through him.

“Where is he?” Harry demands, not really giving two fucks that the tone he’s used is too close to the voice of an Alpha. Jay doesn’t seem to appreciate this, but Louis finally comes into view. Looking a million times smaller, the boy’s hugging himself, blue eyes lowered to the ground. And it’s then that Harry catches the marks on his throat, standing out against the pale of his skin.

Once again, realisation comes over him as his gaze darkens. “Hi,” the boy says, voice small and apologetic. Even though Jay’s obviously gotten to him first, Louis is in so much fucking trouble. Harry is going to punish the living hell out of him.

“We are going to talk,” Jay declares, leaving no other option or choice.

“I–,” _really can’t explain. I’m royally fucking screwed. And I am going to punish the hell out of your son when I get him alone._

“Harry Styles, get inside this house, right bloody now.”

Blinking, the Alpha wants to go into defense, unable to comprehend a Mother’s _you’re-in-trouble_ tone. But then the female Omega literally grabs his ear and he curses viciously, shocked as he’s dragged inside. From behind him, the entrance shuts with a foretelling click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back! :)  
> I'd love you hear your thoughts, my lovelies!  
> What do you think will happen?  
> ARE YOU GLAD WE'VE FINALLY GOTTEN A PRETTY, BREATHER CHAPTER?  
> (next one, not so much >:D )  
> Here to listen,  
> thank you all again,  
> .xxx


	18. Part Eighteen;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I'm sorry? I'm sorry and I'll go tumble from a cliff now.  
> Please, don't hate me...I promise...It gets better... -curls into fetal-position, whimpering-  
> So many thanks to you all. I love you all. Gah. You're all the best...And I cannot stress how grateful I am to each of you.  
> Also, ENDLESS thanks to my lovely beta, Milena, for being here for me and this story every emotional hour and creating that LOVELY, BEAUTIFUL EDIT BELOW...LIKE I can't...:') she's the best Beta anyone could ask for, honest (also evil as I am heehee), [bestBetaeva!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com)  
> And thanks to my lovely sister, (evil on a whole other level), Anna, [bestSistereva](http://fondlemezayn.tumblr.com)  
> Well...here we go...

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=1z1dxn9)

“Sit,” the female Omega orders, releasing his ear to shove (more like _jab_ ) him in direction of the living area where Louis is curled up on the sofa. Curled up so small, unbelievably tiny. Cuddly even–in very much need of cuddles. But at this point the Alpha isn’t inclined to cuddle him–not in this state, with the rage sizzling beneath his veins, causing his hands to shake and his vision highlighted in red. So much red–red to describe this very situation, red inside him, red inside Jay, red inside this whole cruel world. So. Much. Red.

With reason Harry decides he really fucking hates red. It’s one of those colours that drives one mad. Insane. Fucking _crazy_.

Even under these circumstances, aware that he _shouldn’t_ for more than one reason, the Alpha goes to sit beside Louis. Shouldn’t allow the immediacy–mainly because his Alpha has surfaced which is never good news for anyone–especially not Harry himself.  Then again, when the hell has Harry ever done anything to help himself? That’s right, _never_. Knowing instinctively the proximity will ease Louis, the Alpha _goes_ , because even pissed beyond recognition his Alpha’s inherent nature is driven by the constant need to protect, possess, and preserve his Omega.

The three P’s–how _pathetic_.

When he’s seated, he crosses his legs, entire frame rigid. Unconsciously, the Omega attempts to crawl into his lap but, mercifully for Harry, Jay grabs his shoulder and forces him back into his side and his space.  And the Alpha doesn’t know whether to be relieved by the distance (because honestly, he’s one thin, worn hairsbreadth from bending the boy over his knees right now, in this very room, to hell with the circumstances, tugging his tights down his luscious arse, and those thick, creamy thighs, and staining his arse with angry pink handprints) or disappointed by the lack thereof proximity as Louis’s scent, potent as can be, never ceases to calm the animal within. Knowing Louis is safe in his possession never ceases to sooth the animal. In his right state-of-mind Harry realises relieved would be the better choice–but he’s not in the right state-of-mind, far fucking from it. And the contradictory nature serves to frustrate him all the more.

Carelessly shoving one hand through his curls, the Alpha swallows when Jay makes it to stand before him. “Did you do it?” the female Omega demands, blue eyes narrowed slits of suspicion.

As his eyebrows furrow, the Alpha blinks, raising his gaze unflinchingly–absolutely Alpha. Mother or not, Harry is not going to bend to _anyone’s_ will (except maybe Louis's, but _fuck_ that’s another matter entirely. Simple, basic Alpha nature–because that’s what happens to bonded Alphas, they become their Omegas personal guard-dogs, their play-toys. And fuck Harry’s afraid that’s happening to him, afraid he’s becoming one of _them_ , one of those Alphas he’s spited and taunted at every opportunity.)

The silence carries, then, “Did you do it?!” Again. Louder this time. More forceful.

Confused, the Alpha looks to Louis, hoping the answer to Jay’s question lies with her son, but surprise, surprise, the Omega remains ignorant as ever, holding his knees to his chest in that achingly tiny pose.

“DID YOU DO IT?!”

“Do what, Mum!?” Louis breaks first, voice reedy and panicked. In response to his distress, Harry wants to place a soothing hand to his back, sooth his nerves.

“Did…Did you…have sex?” the female Omega whispers, seemingly horrified by the very prospect. The feeling is quite mutual.

Defensive in seconds, the Alpha snaps, “No! Of course not!” Gritting his teeth against the warning growl forming in his throat, Harry rests his fisted hands on his thighs, and finishes quietly, “I wouldn’t.”

Sadness wells through the bond as Louis whirls to face him, the little v between his brows. “W-What’s wrong with having sex w-with me?” he asks, an adorable frown playing at the corners of his mouth.

_Christ, does he say nothing right?_

“Nothing, little one,” he breathes, reaching forward to gently show his fringe out of his eyes. Staring back him, those blind eyes are beautifully vulnerable and virtuous; reminding Harry that Louis hasn’t grasped the importance that stands between them in this predicament. “I’d fu– _make love_ to you in a heartbeat, you know that,” Harry continues genuinely, thumbing at the corner of his mouth. And it’s worth admitting when Louis’s mouth softens into that soft, hesitant smile the Alpha craves so much.

“Excuse me?!” Jay’s outburst brings him back to the present. “There will be no such thing happening!”

In response to the threat, his Alpha rises up, and Harry nearly bares his teeth at the female Omega. _Fuck that._ Nobody’s raised their voice at him like this–not even his Father (then again there had never been the need, the older Alpha got his point across just fine with insults and sneers). Most important _nobody_ has ever dared to keep him from claiming what’s _his_.

“Mum, please!” Louis pleads. “Please, stop! This is unncess–,”

Interrupting, Jay shoves her iPhone in Harry’s direction, “What is this? And what are those marks on my son’s skin? Explain. Explain _right now_.” Peering at the screen, the Alpha can almost feel the blood drain from his face. There pasted on an article that Harry spares no glace at, is the bloody photo. And it’s undeniable that they’re in bed together, with Harry wrapped around his Omega protectively, shielding him mostly from the camera, but its apparent Louis is there, face pressed to Harry’s chest. And it’s damned _cute_ , Harry must admit (only to himself, however, he’s not that _daring_ ) as bonded-Alpha-male rises up inside him, pride overcoming any efforts to yield the animal. _Fuck, yeah, we must be meant, fitted so perfectly as soulmates are, said to connect on such levels…Fuck._

Marveling, the Alpha doesn’t offer any response, but _does_ swallow around the swelling in his throat and tear his gaze away. Focusing on the rug instead–it’s a rather nice rug, he thinks, beige and pale, pale blue, and the material–, “Harry Styles, I will not repeat myself. Answer me.”

“I can’t.” It’s said almost shamefully as some foreign heat meets his face–he’s _blushing_ , he realises, disgusted. _What the fuck? Why is he so damned embarrassed of sudden? Is this how Louis feels around him all the time? Is that why he blushes so much? Horrid._   “I really can’t.”

“I’m not asking,” Jay replies curtly, snatching her phone back when she realises Harry is avoiding the picture. “I am telling you to answer me.”

Swallowing, Harry manages, “Yeah, I got that. I get this whole thing. Uh, Mummy-Bear, yeah? I realise how this must look. But I swear–,”

“No. No I have heard _enough_ of your _swears_. Screw them. Answer. Me. Now.”

“Yes!” the Alpha exclaims (ignoring how Louis jumps), raising his gaze unwaveringly. “We slept together. Fuck, wait, no!” he hastily rights at Jay’s horrified, betrayed expression. “We slept together, yes. In the same bed. But it wasn’t…It wasn’t entirely sexual. Just…I needed…I needed to be close to him!” _Should apologise now,_ is his next thought, _really, really should…_ Except his Alphas pride refuses to allow the words to surface. Vaguely, he wonders, had his Mother not left, would she have bothered with this scolding? It’s no secret that the Alpha faction very rarely receives repercussions for their behaviour as they’re so widely driven by instinct it’s harder to maintain reasoning. Always has been. Then again, he’s not any Alpha, he knows better, always has.

Face flushed with rage, the female Omega snarls in his direction, then begins to pace about the room. “You took advantage of my trust. You really did. The both of you.”

Beside him, Louis sniffles–unleashing those bloody puppy-dog eyes full-force, unfocused and so, so wide. Vividly blue against sun-kissed skin, then there’s that pink button-nose, and those rosy cheeks, and– _Christ, so irresistible._ But, unlike Harry, Jay is very immune to this look. Then again, the Alpha is still _pissed_ , and the thought of getting Louis bent over, the thought of getting his hands on that arse runs a fierce thrill through him. Yeah, he wants that. Wants to know he has that authority. Wants to know that he’s the only Alpha and when he issues an order, serious or not, it’s to be obeyed. Most of the time at least–when it’s important. “I…I’m re-really s-s-sorry, Mummy.” _Mummy_ –dear God this boy _manipulates_.

With those words the female Omega focuses on Louis–but there’s no change in her angry gaze, which instantly makes the Alpha uncomfortable. “You! Young man I do not want to hear another word from you. You’re not innocent so do not Mummy me! You let me down, too, Louis.”

Reprimanded, Louis flinches, tears streaking down his pale face–Harry growls under his breath. “Jay it’s not his fault. I didn’t give him much of a choice and–,”

“Are you saying you forced my baby into bed with you?” Jay demands, extremely quiet now, blue gaze burning holes into his soul.

Blanching, Harry mutters reluctantly, “No. That’s certainly not what I’m saying at all. I’m saying–,”

“That’s quite enough. Back down, H, this isn’t your Alphas place to intervene. I don’t want to hear another word. I need to think.”

Knowing when not to press, the Alpha simply blinks, deciding he doesn’t give any fucks; he’s going to comfort his Omega. Shifting close, Harry places one, soothing hand at the nape of his neck, toying with the baby-soft hairs before letting his fingers trace the curve of his spine. “Don’t cry, kitten, its okay. You’re still a very good boy. For me. The best.” Louis shivers, and Harry can feel the words send Louis’s Omega into his comfort-zone. It’s an extremely pleasant sensation–he’s never experienced an Omega’s response to being praised on such levels–fuzzy, strange warmth which explains why the faction is considered the weakest, which explains why the English Council generally doesn’t accept Alpha-Alpha relationships. Because the Omegas need Alphas more than any other faction–it’s basic genetics, yet there is so much missing, so much to figure out.

“Hands. Off.”

With the Alpha raging in his gaze, Harry raises his eyes to meet Jays. It’s physically impossible to take the contact from Louis, whose breathing evens out even now. “No,” he murmurs seriously, the Alpha resonance thick in his tone.

Even the female Omega seems affected, flinching a bit as Louis whimpers, inching closer to him unconsciously.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Jay hisses, regaining control over her own instincts, “Don’t you dare use that tone in this household. Or you are out, Harry. Out.”

“Mum, please, I–,” Louis tries.

“Hush, little one,” the Alpha orders, then focuses on Jay again, murmuring, “I’m sorry, Jay. For everything. It was wrong. I realise this. But…I can’t. I have to comfort him. I have to.”  _I have to feel him, to know he’s alright, if only physically._

And the female Omega seems to understand this, but grimaces. “Keep it PG.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise,” Harry says breezily, flashing a toothy grin. And this earns him a dry smile–this is working. Charming always works.

Looking very tired abruptly, Jay sighs, running one, trembling hand down her face. “You lost my trust. Both of you. Especially you, Harry. I expected something like this from Louis, but I was probably a bit too confident in your self-control. You’re still a boy. My boy…or I figure one day you will be close enough and so I have the right to discipline you as I see fit, yes?”

Swallowing, Harry tries not to show the emotion those words bring on his face. _‘My boy,’_ he’s never been anyone’s boy–not his Fathers, not his Mothers, not the Councils…And were those words not so concerned, so affectionate and fondly frustrated and disapproving, Harry might leave. Might quietly stand up, walk out of the room, down the hall, and out the front doors to never return, never look back. Because nobody’s treated him like a son. He’s _never_ been a son. He’s been an Alpha. That is all. Not Harry Styles. Not a boy. Not a teenager. Not a son. Not a _someone_. Just the Alpha of the English Council. One of many. Nameless.

 _My boy…_ Unconsciously the Alpha nods, watching blankly as Jay’s features soften when she looks at him (what must be written there, he doesn’t know, and thanks whatever God’s watching that she doesn’t comment), and continues, voice soft as her expression, “Understand that I am not doing this because I don’t want you around. I’m doing this because you put my son’s reputation at risk. And you lied to me more than once already. And now I have to have this talk I really don’t want to have.”

Dismayed, Louis moans, covering his face with trembling hands, “Oh, no. No, no, no. Please, don’t.”

Unable to comprehend, the Alpha wonders what there is to talk about beside the obvious…This is very new to him, but honestly, it’s a _talk_ , not the end of the world. Talk is easily ignored–hence how Harry’s survived his Fathers bullshit so long without committing suicide…or homicide (the world would be much better place had he acted out on his Alpha’s desires–had he burnt down the Councils Parliamentary structure, then the manor where he’d laugh as his Father burnt, then laugh when it was his turn.) _Jesus_ , he thinks, _even now my thoughts are fucked up–too fucking insane._

Tearing him from these thoughts, Jay begins, “Sex…Sex is a…significant part of one’s intimate relationship. Very much so between an Alpha and an Omega.” Without meaning to, Harry groans, nearly horrified as Louis now. The sex-talk–the sex-talk he’d never thought to be on the receiving end of. “I understand this. But it’s very, _very_ frowned upon to engage in sexual acts before mating. And it’s very much illegal to knot or be knotted without the Council’s blessings. As I’m sure you’re aware of, Harry. As for you, Louis, I know you don’t exactly _realise_ what the whole intercourse craze is about.”

Again, Louis moans, shaking his head. Soothingly, the Alpha rubs at his shoulders, even though he also sort of wants to get the fuck out of here. But he won’t leave Louis behind–he’ll endure the torture. For Louis. “Once an Omega is knotted or an Alpha knots his or her Omega, bonding usually follows.  And once you’re bonded it’s pretty much a done-deal. No take-backs. Not even the Council can…fix the damage, were one to change their mind. And you know I don’t want to talk about this either. But Louis, I need you to understand that sexual intercourse isn’t…necessary to please an Alpha. Not at all. Your first heat’s approaching and it’s going to difficult. Very difficult, love. And I know you’ll want to get something…inside of you, but–,” _Is this his life now? Honestly._

“Oh, my God, Mum, stop! I…I can’t…”

“No, listen, I do not want to have to repeat myself.” When silence follows, Jay hems, and continues, “As I said, it’s going to be absolute hell. You’re going to very lust driven. And Harry won’t be around because it’s not allowed. On another note, it will really hurt him to see you like that. His nature as an Alpha will, even with the most advanced training in the world, be wild with the need to breed. Breeding is…well, darling, it’s–,”

Louis whimpers again. “Please. I can’t listen to any more of this. Please, Harry, make it stop. Please. Do _something_.”

Instinctively, the Alpha wants to ease him, to shut Jay up (because it’s _possible_ , he _could_ do it) but then again, it’s really not possible because Harry has been taught against abusing his power as Alpha since a child–even now he remembers being scolded continuously by his Mother _and_ Gemma (his Father, conservative as the older Alpha is, had secretly praised him for presenting his dominance. Of course Mother had found out, and she’d given him an earful. Those were the few better days they’d had together. When the older Alpha was _happy_ …everyone had been. But happiness never lasted, still doesn’t) for _‘using that tone’_ even though he hadn’t known what tone and it hadn’t been as effective since he hadn’t been anywhere near _presenting_. But, being honest, he’d rather _not_ go against Jay–would rather his Mother-in-Law to loath him as little as possible. So that’d be the wrong move, surely. They’re going to have to endure, that’s all. It could be worse. 

“You brought this on yourselves! It’s my obligation to–,”

“Jay, with all due respect, I…I can, uh, educate Louis on the basics.”

Glaring, the female Omega hisses, “No, you can’t _educate_ him. You’d probably _demonstrate_ , but–,”

Grinding his teeth against another growl, the Alpha retorts, “I am not an animal. I would never disrespect or betray him that way. You’ve offended me.”

Looking unimpressed, Jay bites back, “Frankly, I don’t care. You’ve offended and disrespected _me_  by disobeying my wishes to keep the contact to a minimum _and_ –,”

“Wishes?” Louis cuts in, puzzled. “What _wishes_? Contact to a minimum? Why am I now hearing about all this?” _Now you’ve done it, Jay, thanks. Strike one._

“Yes, wishes,” Jay responds. “We’ve had this discussion already–,” _Strike two._

“No, Mum,” Louis snaps, sounding achingly hurt and betrayed as he shies away from Harry’s touch. “You and Harry did, though. Behind my back. Guess I should have expected that–everyone, you, _Liam, Niall, Josh, even Harry,_ continues to treat me like an incompetent child! Why? Because I can’t _see_? Maybe I should be sent away. Since I’m such a bloody hassle and need _constant_ supervision. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you all any more than I obviously already have.  Or shunned because _you aren’t any different from the rest of society._ ”

 _Oh, baby…_ “Lou,” Harry breathes ( _strike three_ ) before the Omega interrupts, words striking like bullets, “Shut up, H. Just…shut up. I’m over it. And I’m about two seconds over _you_ , too.”

Obviously that’s not true; those eyes are glazed over like newly cut glass, and those bullet-like words ricochet around in Harry’s head (creating more guilt because it’s _true_ ).  Years, months, hours, _endlessly_ Louis is treated like this ( _God_ , Harry can _relate_ because the Council and his Father do much the same to him but with their own selfish motives). Because it’s an unconscious response to weakness–Alphas protect those seemingly weaker, and a Mother protects her young. But those words are not entirely _fair_ , because it doesn’t have to do with only his sight. No, it’s his _age_ and his _innocence_ , his exposure.

But he knows that feeling, that stifled, trapped feeling and _never_ wants Louis to be stuck in that place. Because he thinks the boy wouldn’t be as silent in his screams and would rebel. Because that’s Louis. And _fuck_ it’s obvious that he’s not incapable of functioning without his vision, and Harry’d been _wrong_. Mostly.

Guilt torrents through him–the same guilty light reflected in Jay’s eyes.

“You really think that, Lou?” Jay whispers.

“It doesn’t matter.” Somehow, though it’s not noticeable in his voice or on his features, the boy manages to feel guilty, like it was wrong of him to express his feelings.

“Anything you feel matters,” Jay says before Harry can. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

But it’s useless, Louis’s mind is already made, he’s not going there. Which _great_ , the two most reserved people in a relationship–that’s sure to work.

“No, I would rather listen to the sex-talk.”

At the cold tone he’s taken on, the Alpha’s skin crawls, adding to the grotesque guilt. “Remember who you’re talkin’ to, Louis.”

“Whatever, Harry.”

Tightening his grip on the boys shoulder, he warns tightly, “This isn’t a joke.”

“Am I laughing?” Louis snaps, holding his ground. _So fucking beautiful when you’re angry._ “You want to know how I’m feeling so badly? You should ask my Mum. After all, you two sure do seem to know everything.”

“I shouldn’t have to fucking ask,” Harry starts crossly, focused only on Louis as those tempest eyes rage back at him. But then the Omega scrambles forward on the sofa, in his space, “Maybe I don’t want to tell you! Ever thought of that?! No, because you’re so damned _arrogant_ –!” 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Jay cuts in, slightly mollifying. “Stop! Calm down! The both of you. Louis, listen to me right now. You need to learn to communicate your feelings. It’s becoming ridiculous. You want to fix things, talk it out. This issue is between you and Harry; I want no part in it. I only want to make sure you two learn that I am not to be tested.”

Louis huffs, but surrenders for the moment, returning to his side. “Fine.” When they’re alone the confrontation will be inevitable, Harry knows.

“Same to you, H. You want this relationship to work out, learn to communicated better. I can see this is going to create further issues because Louis’s never been very good with expressing his feelings, but he’s sensitive, and you aren’t forthcoming either. Obviously there’s a lot bottled inside. Get over whatever it is.” Obviously? Harry blinks. There’s nothing bottled up inside.

Silent, the Alpha nods, placating.

“Well then. I don’t think I can express my disappointment enough. Really, I don’t. But, I am going to make sure my point is put across.”

Beside him, Louis’s feelings plummet into dread and misery. More than anything, Harry wants to hold him, to reassure him that it will be okay, _but hell if he knows._ “This is Louis’s punishment, of course, but I think the effect will be the same for you, Harry.” _How considerate._ “No dates, no outings, no hanging out. You’re allowed phone-calls, but that’s all. And Harry’s allowed to take you to and from school, no rest-stops. I won’t say when the groundings over. But there you have it.”

Groaning, the Alpha mutters, “No. This simply cannot do. No. I will….I will kill myself, Jay. I will do it. So help me God…”

Louis snorts, then giggles stuffily. “Oh stop exaggerating, you big baby.”

At this, Harry can’t help but smile, though it’s weak, and he doesn’t think he’s exaggerating. Dimly, he makes out little snickers and girlish giggles. Peering over his shoulder, Harry catches sight of three little girls, and surprise, surprise, they’re giggling and watching the entire episode play out with barely contained amusement.

Pouting, the Alpha mouths ‘ _help_ ’ but the wicked little things shake their heads in unison. Sighing, he turns back to Jay and Louis.

And he’s struggling–there hadn’t been a time Harry can remember being grounded or severely disciplined. Not even with his Father. The older Alpha hadn’t ever given him much thought, except when his Mother was around for the short period. And it hadn’t been harsh, simply the threat to start him on painting lessons which Harry _loathed_ because his already shit penmanship. Honestly, he hates anything he isn’t good at, which isn’t much, and hadn’t been back then. But there’d never been anything taken from him. Now there is. There is, and the threat is solid and he feels like he’s going to mentally snap. 

This hasn’t happened to him before. And much like anything else, he doesn’t know how to cope with it.

Because when he’d gotten locked up for vandalism with Zayn, his Father had simply bailed them both without a second thought or word. When he’d gotten into fights, he’d been praised for proving his status. When he’s missed Council events and skipped those shit meetings with _‘potential-Omega-mates’_ his Father had merely reminded him that there was no changing who he _is_ , and his rebellion wouldn’t work against it. And it’d been over–he’d dropped it to start drinking, introduced to the lime-light and the drugs and parties and everything had been okay for that while.

Until he’d grown out of that as well (he’s always been rather fickle). Out of the addiction that no longer proved an outlet, when he’d opened his fucking eyes and saw how much weight Zayn had _lost_ , how their eyes no longer held the same light, and how _absolutely nothing had changed._

From there he’d abandoned that crowd, left behind Nick (still a mate, but nowhere near as close) and the others. After that Harry had looked into schools towards Wales, even Ireland, anywhere _far, far away_ from responsibility and reality and the absolute _shit_ this life offered. And once again his Father merely _shrugged_ , told him once again there was no running, but to go ahead and try. Go ahead and try. Try he did–instant acceptance from Wales mostly due to his title within the English Council, and he’d even managed to convince Zayn, who’d been with Alpha-Number-Three at that time.

Except the Alpha really _hadn’t_ convinced him as the Omega called him one night, quietly stating he wasn’t going to leave his life behind and neither should Harry. Fuck that is what Harry can remember thinking and saying and shouting while shoving bags into his car and going nowhere at all.

Going nowhere until two consecutive events–two events he’d never told a soul of and never would.

First: Zayn’s _face_. His body. His _soul_. Bloodied. Bruised. God, the Alpha remembers feeling like he could cry. Never did, of course, because Alphas don’t cry. And he hasn’t cried since before eleven. Tears are weak. But…he’d almost cried that night, finding his Omega (because at that point Zayn had been his Omega to protect) hiding in his fucking wardrobe, hiding from Harry, because Harry hadn’t been there to buffer the damage. The hurt faded to more anger quickly from there. So much…anger.

Second: his thoughts hadn’t been exactly _right_ then, probably still aren’t. But it’d been worse at sixteen.

_Trapped. Angry. Going nowhere fast._

_Harry sat on that bloody rooftop to that bloody abandoned building clutching a half-empty bottle of Jack and staring at the far, far ground. The fall. Thinking about how the fall would feel. And hating himself more than ever before for going there. For thinking that it’d make him feel any more alive and free. An ironic thought since the opposite would happen physically, but emotionally…mentally…another matter entirely._

_Except the opportunity vanished as Zayn appeared, standing before him in the dark, hands at his hips. And he looked furious. More so than Harry could recall ever seeing. But, he’d been drunk, and smiled lopsidedly, “Some fall, yeah?”_

_Wordless, the Omega snatched the bottle (Harry thought he’d take a swing for himself) and threw it over the ledge. Numb, they watched it shatter. And he hardly heard Zayn say, “You’re being fucking stupid. Again. Get it together, Styles, because that’s what will happen to you down there.” Probably more guts and blood and all that dirty shit with my visceral, but I’ll keep my mouth shut, Harry thought, fighting another grin._

_Except Zayn didn’t seem to appreciate the humour as he spun on his heels and started away. Dunkley, Harry rose, catching up in seconds to ask, “Z, wait. What…What if that’s already happened up here?”_

_There’d been a stretchy, painful silence before Zayn slapped him so hard across the face he tasted blood. Stunned, Harry touched the spot as the Omega demanded, “Did that hurt?”_

_“No fucking shit!” he sputtered, spitting out blood._

_“Then you’re fine.” Some fucking logic. Before he could protest, Zayn continued, patting his front pockets, “Where are the keys, H? Let me take you home, it’s bloody late and cold and so help me God next time you’re acting like a prick, or trying to do stupid shit, don’t expect me to be around to help you. I’m done picking up after you, you little slob. No more. Time to change. We are going home, and Mum’s going to make you feel like shit because we were worried and with good fucking reason too. But she’s still gonna baby your sorry arse because she always does.” By home, he means his place, Harry thought, throat tightening, grateful to not be going back to the manor, to be going with Zayn, because Zayn’s always been best at making him feel like shit and like a fucking deity all the same._

_Touched, Harry threw a heavy arm around the smallers shoulder when he’d finished retrieving the keys. “I always knew you’d fall in love with me. Even though I’m not lovable. Patricia is going to be thrilled. When shall we call on the Coun–?”_

_“Shut the fuck up, H, unless you want another slap to the face. And don’t say things like that. If Ben hears…” Ah, fuck him, what’s he going to do? Bite me?_

_“Love you, too, mate, love you too. You’re my best friend, y’know. All I need. Fuck them. Don’t need anyone but you. Fuck my Father, and my Mother and my sister and fuck the entire world, oh and the Council. Oh, and fuck Ben, and his fucking stench and just…fuck Ben. C’mon, Z, you can do better. So much better. Toss him. Or let me tear ‘im apart when I wake up, yeah? For now, ‘m going…to sleep…See ya on the bright side, if there’s one. Tell your Mum I said hello but ‘m not going to make it ‘cause I’m ‘bout to throw up or pass out. I vote the latter.”_

_“Oh, Jesus,” the Omega sounded frantic as Harry stumbled. “Don’t! Harry, don’t you dare pass out on me! Haz–I fucking hate your guts, y’know. I am going to kill you.”_

_“Best way to go,” he slurred, but tried to stay awake, finding there was no way. “Slap me again. That’ll wake me…up. I hope.”_

_And the next was a back-hand. Fuck did it wake him up as his Alpha rose to the challenge. Blinking rapidly, Harry managed to focus, muttering, “Alright. I’m up. Told ya, fucking lovable, I am,” despite the fact that he’d said he was the opposite. Sobered up a bit, he realised the weakness behind that statement and Alphas aren’t weak. No. Never._

Sighing, the Alpha blinks, rubbing his eyes, shoving the memories into that mental box and locking it up tight. “What now then?” he manages unevenly, “Am I being kicked out?”

“Momentarily. But first,” the female Omega walks to the entrance, and Harry’s eyes track the movement, confused. Opening the door, she reveals another bloke, and Harry inhales through his nose, catching the Betas scent, neutral. Even so another male presence makes him tense, wrapping an arm around Louis’s waist and bringing him in close to his side, glowering at the Beta murderously, mouth to Louis’s hair, undeniably scenting the oblivious boy. Against him, Louis sighs, then tips his face, eyes shut, “Who is it?”

Looking uncomfortable as Harry feels, which is fairly impressive, the Beta lets himself be led inside and brought to the living area.

“H, meet Dermot, who is going to be keeping an eye on the two of you while I’m not around to do so.”

At this, the Alphas jaw ticks, but he scoffs in disgust, “A babysitter?”

“Hi, Dermot,” Louis greets the Beta, and Harry thinks there’s an unnecessary amount of sympathy and kindness in his voice. Growling low in his throat, the Alpha nips at the boy’s ear, tightening his fingers at Louis’s hips, “Like him?”

Louis shivers, then tilts his head a bit, “Jealous?”

Not finding this amusing, Harry answers honestly, “No.”

“Oh, yes,” the Omega breathes, misplaced understanding finding him as those fairy-like fingers trace his jawline. “Such an Alpha, you are.”

Now, Harry can’t help but grin, albeit ruefully. “Thought I was an evil Beta?”

“No,” Louis mumbles, “Very much Alpha. Undeniably Alpha. My jealous Alpha. You’re quite adorable when you’re jealous, too, baby. I’m surprisingly pleased.”

With this boy, the Alphas words always come back to him. “I think,” Harry murmurs, tracing circles at Louis’s hip, slightly underneath the tights he hasn’t gotten the chance to really look at. Longing spikes through him, and he _knows_ without a doubt Louis’s arse must look fucking mouthwatering in these. At the contact, the Omegas breathing hitches, eyes glazing over a bit. “Your memory is scarily remarkable.”

“If you two are quite _finished_ ,” Jay interrupts, reminding Harry–who had forgotten completely–she’s there. Tragic, really. “I would like to properly introduce you to Dermot, Harry, as Louis’s already acquainted.”

Reluctantly, Harry tears his gaze from Louis and to the two standing in the middle of the room, studying them. “Harry,” he murmurs as politely as possible, not bothering to extend a hand. His hands are busy, one still tracing circles into Louis’s sharp hip, the other toying with the hem of his shirt, trying to be subtle about the way his fingers stroke his soft belly. “Harry Styles.”

“Dermot Lyon,” the Beta mutters, and it’s obvious he’d rather be anywhere else. Poor bastard.

“Now, I don’t want you,” she points to Harry accusingly. “To start anything. You know who he is. You know his job is to watch and make sure there’s nothing more than appropriate. He’ll follow you to and from school and stay with Louis afterwards starting tomorrow.”

“Stay with Louis? Alone?” the Alpha asks, lethally quiet though inwardly his Alpha is growling at the prospect of another male _alone_ with his Omega.

“He’s a Beta, H,” Louis soothes, placing his hand over the one at his belly. “I’ll be fine. I’ve known him a long time.”

“How long?” Harry demands, staring at Jay–again the female Omega looks vaguely unsettled but shakes it away.

“Tone, H.”

Taking one, calming breath, the Alpha starts again, “Sorry. How long, Jay?” 

“Since Louis was twelve,” Jay supplies. At the idea of Louis being so close to another male that isn’t him at that age causes Harry to tense. It’s unwarranted–but it’s still there and it’s nothing going anywhere.

“And how long will he be staying?”

“Until I come home from work or the girls come home from school.”

There’s no bargaining–this is the consequence. And he really fucking hates feeling so helpless–hates the idea of not being there for his Omega. Hates the damned restrictions. “Keep your distance,” the Alpha all but snarls at the middle-aged Beta. “I don’t want you anywhere near him in this house. No touching. And if I find out…”

“Mr. Styles,” Dermot interrupts. “With all due respect I know my job and I am professional about it. I respect Louis. And I respect Jay.”

“Yeah, well,” Harry retorts, glare darkening. “I know _my_ job, and that’s to make sure you don’t cross any boundaries.”

Dermot wisely holds his tongue and it’s extremely tense in the room until Louis sighs, “Can we please not do this right now? Harry, there’s no need for the warning, Dermot wouldn’t…He’s never been anything more or less than professional, yeah?”

Oddly enough the Omega’s reassurance makes the circumstances much easier to bear, but only just. “Just…don’t like this, kitten.”

Smiling unhappily, Louis murmurs, “Yeah, me neither. But we have no choice.”

Sighing, the Alpha nuzzles the boy’s silken hair, breathing, “Reckon we deserve this.”

“Reckon so.”

“As much as I don’t want to do this, H, it’s time to go.”

“I understand, Jay,” Harry nods, releasing Louis reluctantly. “I really am sorry. And I hope you can forgive my behaviour and with time I can earn your trust again.” _Or whatever._

Seeming to appreciate this, the female Omega nods, then murmurs, “You can show Harry to the door, Lou.”

Grasping the opportunity, the Alpha takes Louis’s hand and instead leads _him_ down the hall to the front door where he opens the door and takes the chance to step outside with Louis, shutting the frame behind him. There, he stalks up to him with Louis stepping back until his backs to the wall as Harry towers over him. “You disobeyed me,” he states quietly, the Alpha timbre is recognisable in his voice and Louis swallows, whimpering low in his throat. Fuck, his Alpha likes that sound. A lot. Such a sexy sound. “I told you to cover them up.”

“I’m s-sorry, Haz,” Louis breathes, blind eyes peering up at him beneath long, thick lashes. Then he raises his trembling hands to Harry’s chest. “Please, don’t p-punish me.”

“I can’t _not_ punish you,” the Alpha replies, closing the fractional distance so his hips are flush against Louis’s belly. “I have to. You have to learn. You’ve been bad. A bad boy.”

“I-I learnt my lesson in that living room,” Louis breathes back, then leans his head against Harry’s chest, “Please, don’t I…I forgot about them.”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t forget again.”

Whimpering, the Omega shakes his head. “I won’t, Haz…I won’t.”

“Don’t trust you.”

“You said you did.”

“I don’t trust you on this particular topic,” Harry clarifies.

“Fine. Don’t trust me. I don’t care. You’re not going to toss me around. I don’t care. I will end this right now, right here. You aren’t allowed to slap or beat me.”

At this, Harry stills. “What.”

“You heard me.”

“No. I mean what the hell are you talking about–?”

“Okay. Farewells are over,” Jay declares, opening the door. Staggering away before she pokes her head out, Harry runs his hands through his hair. _Slap him? Beat him?_ What does this boy think punishment entitles? _Abuse?_ “Goodbye, Harry. Inside, Louis.”

Head bowed, in a tangle of distress and hurt, the Omega storms inside. With a forced smile for Jay, Harry turns and promptly stalks to his car. Inside, he lets his head fall to the steering wheel. So out of his element, so fucking screwed. This entire mess–being grounded and restricted and then there’s Louis. _Damn it_. Why would Louis figure punishment between an Omega and an Alpha would entitle abuse when that’s more illegal and unethical than almost anything else? Spankings, alright, sexual-punishment, not serious enough to damage and hurt. But slapping and beating and all that equally as repulsive behaviour? An Alpha would be ashamed to bear those actions on their conscious, unless they'rdisgusting little leeches like Ben.

But _where the fuck did that idea come from?_

Growling, the Alpha starts the engine, goes to the manor, and calmly makes his way to his room. There, he allows himself the emotional outlet he’s been seeking–slamming his fists into the wall, leaving impressions and holes that will need to be filled in the structure before throwing shit. Going full tantrum like never before, frustrated and furious, seeing endless hues of crimson until the room is in utter chaos.

_Slap him? Beat him? Yeah fucking right._

That the Omega would even _think_ he’d go there doubles his anger at sub-zero levels as he changes into running shorts and trainers before promptly starting out of the fucking hell-hole-manor to escape his emotions.

♥

                When the Alpha leaves him, Louis doesn’t spare his Mother a word, deciding to give her the silent treatment even knowing this punishment is well deserved (bratty or not, he’s thoroughly put out with her). So, the Omega skips dinner to hide away in the confines of his bedroom, curling into a little ball in the middle of his abruptly too-large bed. Wide-awake, the Omega tries to make sense of his thoughts and emotions, but nothing’s in line and it’s nearly impossible. Mostly, Louis is hurt. But he’s also alone and embarrassed and wants to sleep but is too afraid because Harry isn’t here to hold him and he’s become pitifully accustomed to no longer having the nightmares. Too dependent, Louis realises, hugging his legs closer to his aching chest.

Overwhelmed, the Omega squeezes his useless eyes shut and tries to numb the emotions. All around it’s silent. So silent. Too silence. _Scarily silent._

As to drown out the silence, Louis sits up, listening to the rustle of his sheets and blankets while grabbing Harry’s pillow. And he briefly considers tossing it out the window to get the message across to Harry that he’s no longer wanted, but opts to hug the pillow to his chest, sighing when Harry’s scent (caught in the material) gently mutes the emotions wrecking through him.

But he’s still scared. Terrified that his Mum’s run the Alpha off. Even more so that _he_ has too. Just like that Louis feels like the breath’s been knocked from his lungs, like his airways have closed up. Gasping, the Omega clutches the pillow that’s become his minute life-boat.

There’s no sound to warn him before Louis is being enveloped in the solid frame of Harry Styles. The flood-gate collapses as tears come rushing down his cheeks. “I h-hate you,” Louis cries, hurt and upset and terrified and so confused. _I hate that I love you so much._   “I c-can’t breathe, _don’t touch me_!”

When the Alpha cradles him impossibly closer, Louis lets out another little, hurt noise. “N-No. I hate _you_.” _Don’t leave me…Let’s forget that one day I’ll have to let it all go, let you go._

“Hush, love,” Harry breathes roughly, urging him to turn so Louis is clinging to him, in his lap, crying softly into the slope of his throat. “D-Don’t listen to any-anything I say. Don’t leave me. Just…hold me…” _I want you to love me, to trust me, and to just stay with me._

Running those ridiculously large hands up and down his sides, the Alpha hums, rocking him until Louis’s tears slow and his snivels fade into that jarring silence. “’M s-sorry, Hazza,” Louis breathes against his throat. “I d-don’t ha-hate you.” And he’s planting apologetic kisses up the Alphas throat to his ticking jaw.

There’s one stretch of silence before Harry hums again, that rough, husky sound that makes Louis’s insides soupy as the Alphas mouth finds his. At the contact, the Omegas still-wet eyes flutter shut. As he sighs against Harry’s mouth, the Alpha runs his tongue across Louis’s bottom lip, asking permission. Without hesitation, Louis parts his lips, whining softly, trying to be quiet as possible when Harry’s mint-flavored tongue possesses his mouth.

And though he’s not breathing again, it’s the loveliest feeling in his entire dark world. When his head is spinning, the Alpha tears his mouth away, voice coarse, “Breathe, kitten, breathe.” 

On command Louis gasps, dizzied as his head rests on Harry’s shoulder. “Could never hate you.” _Not even when you leave. Not even when I let you go. Not even when you find what you’re really looking for in your world of light._

“That’s alright, love,” the Alpha breathes, but there’s some note to his voice that makes fresh tears sting at his useless eyes. “I’d understand if you did.”

“No. No, Haz, no. I mean it,” Louis rushes through the words, bleeding the sureness into his voice. “I say things I don’t mean when I’m upset…Most of the time I don’t mean it. This time I didn’t mean it. I’m in and out of my head. Remember when you told me not to listen to what you said because most of the time it’s nonsense? I guess we have something in common…I don’t think either of us actually knows how to handle our emotions.”

In response the Alpha laughs, but it’s humorless and makes those stinging tears tumble. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s work on that sometime.”

“Sometime?” Louis smiles contritely. “We could work on it now.”

“Now why would we do that when there are _other_ pressing matters to attend to?”

Confused, the Omega nuzzles his shoulder again. “I can’t think of anything more pressing that that.”

“How about what you said earlier? What…What was that?” The question is quiet, almost hesitant, like Harry knows Louis wants to bolt from the room. But there’s no opportunity as the arms at his waist tighten into unbreakable bands.

“I…I don’t know what you mean,” Louis lies, swallowing around the lump that’s formed in his throat.

“I think you do, little one,” Harry tells him, nosing at his shoulder now. “What did you mean by that? By slapping and beating?”

In response to those words, Louis’s heart flutters in the worst of ways, terror spearing ice through his bloodstream. “E-Exactly what it sounds like.”

One tense pause follows. “You think I’d seriously touch you like that?” The tight, biting rage in his voice causes the Omega to recoil–but there’s no escape, he’s trapped.

“I…I don’t know! I…”

Two lissome fingers grip his jaw, forcing Louis to straighten and unveil his face. With his eyes screwed shut, Louis hopes desperately that there is nothing shown on his features. “Don’t go into hiding on me now, Louis. I need you to be honest with me.”

Helpless, the Omega clutches the anger searing through him, trying to shove Harry’s hands away. “That’s not fair. You keep things from me. You don’t tell me practically _anything_. But I have to tell you. I have to be _honest_. This relationship is _shit_ , H. It isn’t…honest.”

Grip tightening, the Alpha breathes, voice so intense it sends shivers down Louis’s spine. “I’m sorry. I already apologised. I’m trying. Give me time. Give _this_ time. I am _trying_. I already promised honesty. Only honesty. Doesn’t that apply to you as well? I can’t make this relationship not shit on my own, Lou. I can’t.”

Louis swallows, bringing his hand up to shield his eyes. “Fine,” the Omega relents shakily. “F-Fine. Y-You said you’d never hurt me, yeah? But that’s a lie. A complete _lie_. You c-can’t protect me f-from you. Because I won’t let you–everything you said yesterday. About making love to me, and knotting me, and bonding me, I-I’m pr-prepared to give you _now_. And that none of that is going to happen _hurts me_. So you _can’t_. B-B-But I thought maybe…that m-meant you wouldn’t…do _that_.”

“You’re willing to give me those things?” Harry asks sharply. “Now? Even though we’re an _absolute mess_? Even though I’ll hurt you and you’ll hurt me? Even though you’ll have to put up with me forever? Even though you’ll belong to nobody else? Even though _you won’t ever experience having another Alpha to make sure I’m what you want?_ ” _I never want another Alpha; I already know you’re all I will ever want._

Hope expands in Louis’s heart. “Yes. Yes, now.”

In seconds the Alphas arms have constricted so much Louis can’t breathe, but it doesn’t matter because Harry buries his face in his throat, voice muffled, “Let me keep you.”

“Yes,” Louis says breathlessly. “For as long as possible.”

The response is instantaneous as Harry’s mouth starts at his throat. Kissing his skin, marking with his teeth and his tongue until Louis’s heart is racing, white-hot sensation flooding his senses, “You…You…can’t…”

Even as Louis attempts to keep in touch with conscious thoughts that don’t revolve around Harry’s mouth the Omega tilts his head, giving better access as his mouth parts to release little frantic breaths. “Why…? _Oh_ ,” Louis gasps, the shock sparks through the Omega when Harry’s teeth close over the sensitive skin at the slope of his neck. Warmth spirals through his veins as his entire body goes limp. 

“Yeah.” Somehow the Alpha’s voice manages to make it passed the fog in his brain. “Feels so damned good, doesn’t it?”

Louis doesn’t respond, unable to find his voice.

Sighing, the Alpha holds him, Louis’s head tucked underneath his chin, simply holding. As the sensation fades, Louis sighs, about to speak when Harry does first. “What did you mean by _do that_?”

“Hurt me…physically,” Louis manages, resigned. “I…I thought for…for a while I thought I w-wouldn’t be afraid anymore…That the w-w-worst of it was over.”

“Worst of what?”

“The beatings!” it’s almost a shrill (but it doesn’t make it because Louis slams one hand over his mouth). When the Omega feels more in control, he continues, “Alphas…Alphas scare me, okay? Y-You scare me. And it’s not _your fault_. It’s not y-you exactly. It’s…It’s your p-presentation.”

At this, the Alpha inhales sharply. “Why does that scare you?”

Louis shakes his head as scalding tears slide down his equally as scalding cheeks. God, he feels so stupid. “B-Because h-he was an Al-Alpha. And I thought… _I know_ he cared…but I’m _wrong_. S-So wrong to think that. B-Because when y-you c-care about s-someone y-y-you _don’t_ toss them around, yeah?” Louis breathes, sniveling into the sleeve of his jumper. “He _liked_ to t-toss me around, Hazza. S-Sometimes for no reason. I-I tried to be s-s-so _good_ , Harry. I tried…but it w-wasn’t enough. It s-still isn’t. No-Not even for _you_. T-That’s w-why you w-want to beat me?”

“No, love,” the Alpha denies fiercely, and Louis feels the timbre of the words through his entire body. “Fuck. Fuck, no. No, Louis. That is not okay. That mentality is _not okay_.”

Again, the Omega shakes his head, smiling paradoxically. “What makes you say that? You grew up in the Council. Y-You know as well as anyone else that it’s never the Alphas fault.”

A low, menacing growl comes from Harry’s chest as the arms around his waist tighen. “That’s _bullshit_. Fucking supremacy, Louis, meant to keep the Alphas in control. Nothing. Nothing was ever your fault, Louis."

“You can’t say that. Not when you want to…beat me, because I was bad, remember?”

“I don’t want to fucking _beat you, Louis!_ ” the Alpha snarls. Cringing at the sound, the Omega whimpers, but is too terrified to try and get away, knowing the repercussions will be worse if he tries (he’d learnt that rather quick years ago). “I’m sorry,” the Alpha whispers, voice horrified, stroking his hair carefully, as to not startle him. “I didn’t mean to use that tone. I’m sorry, kitten. I don’t know why that happens either. Not an excuse, but. I don’t know why I can’t get fucking control it lately.”

At the warm seductive cadence Harry’s voice has taken on, Louis is spellbound, even knowing he’s being manipulated, whispering, “’S o-okay, Hazza.”

Nosing at his cheek, the Alpha breathes, “’S not. Next time, cuff me one proper, yeah?”

A smile threatens to tilt his mouth as Louis breathes, “You can’t help that, Hazza. It’s part of who you are.”

“I…Just…I’m so damned _angry_ right now. So fucking livid.”

Stroking the curls from Harry’s face, Louis asks timidly, “At me?”

“No, baby. With this never. I would _never_ be angry at you over this. At _him_. At fucking _him_. Whoever that fucking piece of shit is. It’s taking me a lot not to call someone up and track…I have to protect you, Lou. I have to. I can’t…I can’t stand the idea–,”

“Shh,” Louis breathes, wriggling so they’re nose-to-nose. “Stop it. There’s no reason. You want to protect me? Stay here. Stay with me.”

“No. No. That’s not _enough_. I need to make sure that fucking…I need to make sure the fucker never breathes another easy breath. I–,”

Interrupting, the Omega presses soft, pleading kisses to the Alpha’s mouth. “Please. Stop. Don’t.” _He doesn’t deserve it–I did._

Without kissing him back, Harry speaks, but it sounds (mercifully) distracted now. “All I want is to keep you happy and safe. But I feel so out of control because there is always another reason for the tears. I can’t make you happy. And it’s tearing me up inside, Louis. I’ve never felt so damned…confused. Like I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do at this point. Everything I try only makes it _worse_.”

Louis pauses, then giggles incredulously. “That’s really…silly, Harry Styles. Are you the blind one here? Not everything’s going to be rainbows and butterflies or whatever. We have a lot to work out. And work on. Work on me. Work on you. Work on us. And our terrible communication skills. But despite everything…you make me happy. So, so happy.” _And I love you more than I love that strange thing called light_. “And I know it’s really, really, really early to be saying things like this, but you’re the only person that makes me feel whole. And makes me feel safe in the dark. And I probably love you a lot.”

_Oh, no._

At the words, Louis pales, squeezes his eyes shut and prepares for the Alpha to freak out. Because he knows he’s going to–that’s Harry. And the Omega can practically hear the gears in his mind shifting it’s so silent, then there’s one unsteady breath and he’s being unceremoniously put on his back.

Louis goes to apologise. Because he’s sorry for feeling the way he does, knowing it’ll only make the pain worse in the long-run. “I’m–,”

“Love?” the Alpha breathes, the sound barely audible as Harry braces himself above Louis. And suddenly there’s a change in pressure, and Louis thinks some invisible force emerges from the Alpha and over his skin, blanketing him in warm, soft emotion. And it’s almost unpleasant, this feeling, this droning feeling, but so sharply sweet all the same.

“Probably,” Louis manages, butterflies and static fluttering all throughout his body. “Probably.”

“Do you mean that?” it’s faint, so faint though Harry’s dishearteningly close, and he’s sure those intense eyes are boring into his unseeing ones. “Tell me you mean that. Tell me you weren’t just saying the words, Louis.”

Allowing his lashes to flutter, Louis softens, breathing quicker. “Probably.” And he won’t come out and say it because…well he’s too scared–terrified even.

With one short exhale, the Alpha tugs him against his frame and Louis lifts his arms to his shoulders, hands tangling in the soft tuffs of curls. “Mine,” Harry murmurs gently into his temple.

Louis remains quiet–the words send another buzz of warmth through his entire body.

“Mine,” the word's darkened with this possessive glow that has Louis agreeing instantly, “Yes. Yours.”

“A few years…” the Alpha starts, tensing as Louis stills, listening attentively, “A few years after my Mother left and my sister I’d just turned thirteen, yeah? And I was angry, Lou. I was really fucking angry. I’m always angry. And I fucked up. I fucked up bad.” His voice is thin and weary. Coaxingly, Louis runs his fingers through his hair, listening and waiting for him to continue.

“I was angry and I blamed my Father. I blamed him for everything that had happened. But it wasn’t his fault. Not entirely. He’d been a…decent Father before that. I don’t remember what triggered it. I don’t even remember, Lou,” his voice turns frantic and disgusted and _oh, no_ , “God, I don’t remember but I went to him and…I blamed him for it all. I blamed him for running my Mother and my sister off. I blamed him for raising the shittiest son in the world because he was the shittiest Father. And he really _wasn’t_. Nothing was his fault, Lou. Nothing. It was mine. Obviously. I mean…I was just stupid. So fucking stupid. I tore Gems’ room apart. And I destroyed every painting of my Mothers that I could find and I _ruined_ whatever the hell was left of my family because I was so _angry_ for being this…person I am. I never admitted that it was my fault, too, that I’m the reason he stopped caring. I made it this way. And I regret it. I regret it.”

Tears pool in Louis’s eyes. It’s the most emotion he’s heard from Harry. And the most emotion is hatred. Self-hatred. Disgust. And that… _no. Nonono._

Now his voice is ominously soft as if he’s angry, and Louis’s heart sinks past the depths of the ocean. “I didn’t deserve an amazing family. That’s why it was taken. I didn’t deserve a caring Father. That’s why I ruined it. And I sure as fuck don’t deserve _you_. I don’t want to ruin you, too, Lou. I can’t do that. I can’t. Don’t let me do that…”

“No,” Louis breathes, horrified as his tears spill, unbidden, down his cheeks and into Harry’s shirt. “Don’t say that! Don’t. You…You were young, baby, and angry. Of course you were. None of that was your fault, Haz. None of it. You didn’t ruin _anything_. It wasn’t in your control. You were only a child! And you acted out! Of course you did. You deserved all those things. Still do. God, Harry, you deserve an amazing family and a caring Father and _you deserve me_.”

“I don’t,” the Alpha breathes raggedly into his throat–Louis’s never heard him so vulnerable. It’s crushing–the pressure building again. “I don’t deserve you especially. You’re so bloody innocent. And pure. And I don’t deserve that. You deserve better than me. You do. You do but I can’t…I can’t let you go.”

“Then don’t,” Louis breathes, voice trembling with tears. _Not yet..._ “Don’t do that. Don’t make me find someone else. Don’t do that.”

There’s one short, menacing growl. “I won’t. Fuck. No. I won’t because you are mine. Mine.  Only mine.” Assured, the Omega pets the Alpha’s curls, smoothing them, “Calm down, Alpha.”

“I can’t. Not when I’m thinking about some fucking idiot touching you like this. And holding you. And being with you. And imaging that you’d give him those smiles I crave more than anything and–,”

“Haz,” Louis whispers, tugging at one tuff of his hair to get his attention. “Stop. ‘S not going to happen.” _Not until I manage to get over you…if I can even manage that._

“How can you expect me to believe that?”

 “I already gave you the choice,” Louis reminds softly. “I gave you the choice to take me. And to make me yours. Forever. I don’t know what else I can do.”

“You know I can’t do that.” _I know…Trust me, I know._

“Then stop, H,” Louis snivels, shoving at his chest now. “Then stop acting like this. Stop being so possessive because I can’t be yours. Not really. Not until we’re bonded. And you know it. That’s why you’re acting like this, isn’t it? Because…” _Because you know without this I won’t stay._

“Because I could lose you,” the Alpha breathes, “Because I don’t know what I’ll do…God, Lou, what will I do?”

Louis can’t help it–a small, nervous, disbelieving giggle erupts from deep inside. And he bites his lip to stop it from turning into full-scale hysterical laughter but fails miserably. Plopping onto his back on the mattress, the Omega surrenders to the laughter, laughing like he’s never laughed before, huge healing cathartic ruptures of laughter. 

And for the moment he’s on his own, imagining he’s looking down at this absurd situation, a giggling, overwhelmed boy beside a beautiful fucked-up Alpha.  Louis drapes an arm across his eyes, as his laughter turns into more scalding tears. No, no…this is too much.

As the hysteria subsides, Louis chokes on one last giggle, but it’s more a whimper than anything else. “I don’t know,” Louis cries, still giggling around sobs. “I don’t know but you’ll…you’ll be fine, H. You’ll be okay.” _I’ll be the one in shambles. I’ll be the broken one._ And it’s amusing that at one point Louis thought there wasn’t any more broken he could be. 

 “Oh, baby. No. Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Like the Alpha could possibly understand that he’s already damaged himself beyond repair by falling in love with him. “C’mere. We’ll be fine. We’ll be okay. We have to be.” _Stop lying to yourself._

Then he’s being dragged into an embrace. On his side with the Alpha’s chest pressed to his nose as Louis scrubs at the last of the tears, frantically assembling the self-made calm his Omega takes on during these times. Luckily for him, his Omegas gone into hiding again–in a mental-corner breaking-down inside the way Louis won’t allow himself to break-down on the outside. 

“S-Sorry,” the Omega mumbles, mortified. “I don’t know what happened there. Just…don’t know how to handle this. Never thought to prepare myself for relationship issues.”

“You’re so innocent,” the Alpha breathes again, voice gentle and affection and achingly tender.

“’M not an angel, Haz,” Louis sighs, shutting his eyes. “Nowhere close.”

“You are,” Harry disagrees, but there’s more fixture to his voice now. There’s no probably to it, Louis thinks, I’m so powerless to loving this Alpha. “You’re my angel. My prince. My kitten. My little Omega. Mine.”

Disbelieving giggles escape him–the hysterical key still perceptible in the sound. “Choose one, H.”

“My angelic prince kitten Omega,” the Alpha states, urging him close so that his mouth is tight to his chest.

“That’s stretchy,” Louis mumbles into his skin as his heart constricts. “Let’s shorten it.”

“It’s perfect. Let’s keep it the same.”

“Sometimes,” Louis murmurs hesitantly, tilting his face so his eyes are visible to Harry’s. “Sometimes change is better.”

“Better?” the Alpha laughs quietly, the sound is bitter and hollow and Louis _hates_ it more than anything else. “Not fucking likely.”

Louis hopes his gaze is steady as he unexpectedly feels. “Sometimes,” he states again, “Change is better.”

Those eyes feel intense, watching him, studying him. “Like when, Lou? Because I haven’t seen, heard of it, or experienced it yet.”

Louis smiles shyly. “Me neither,” he says with an ironic giggle. “But it’ll find us eventually.”

“You’re too optimistic.”

Louis tilts his head to the right, so his fringe falls in his right eye, still grinning. “So are you, H. So are you.”

When there’s no response, Louis drops his stupid gaze and breathes, having lost his nerve, “You said you wanted to be better, yeah? That’s change. Change is better. You said you wanted…you wanted to bond me. That’s change. Change would be better. You said you wanted to give me your pups. That’s change. Change would be better. You said you wanted to make me happy. That’s change. Change is better. I believed you on all those claims. Did you mean it?”

“You know I meant it,” the Alpha whispers darkly.

In triumph, Louis beams. “Do you still mean it?”

“You know I do…” another, secretive breath.

“Then sometimes change is better. I believe that.”  _I have too._

There’s another shift in the atmosphere–the stifling effects of the future seems to dissipate into nothing as the static crawling along his skin vanishes.  And Louis thinks the Alpha is grinning back. “What ‘bout you then, brilliant boy? What do you want to change?”

Louis swallows, drop his gaze and tries to keep the sadness from his voice. “I have a lot.” _But I can’t change myself. And I’m so sorry. I love you. No matter how much I try, I can’t change who I am. But I’d keep trying for you._ Pasting another smile on his lips, Louis raises his face again, “But mines are secret.”

“Mmm. Mysterious.” There’s isn’t a note of doubt or concern so Louis thinks his acting skills have bettered significantly. And is extremely grateful in this moment.

 _Not at all._ “Yeah,” Louis manages, then tugs the blankets over him, curling up. “Naturally an enigma, I am.”

Twining their legs, Harry holds him around the waist and at the careful contact Louis feels like crying again. But he wills him to hold it together, at least until it’s done and over with. There will be enough time for crying then. “You shouldn’t stay,” Louis breathes, though he can’t stand the thought of Harry actually leaving. “You really shouldn’t.” _Please, stay._

“I know.” But he’s going to stay–the Omega knows that tone. Recognises the absolute _‘I-don’t-really-care’_ tone.

“Last time?” he whispers, really asking _‘not getting caught next time?’._

And the Alpha seems to get this because his hold tightens before he breathes, “Last time.”

♥

                The months that follow aren’t uneventful. Well not in Louis’s opinion at least.

Returning to school, the Omega wants to sink into the linoleum floors and never emerge as the stares burn into him at all angles from where he’s tucked into Harry’s side.           Whenever someone greets Harry, Louis huddles closer into his side, waiting on the Alpha’s response, but Harry either waves or ignores them (Louis can’t tell because the Alpha says nothing, and they’re already in movement). Which Louis frowns at, scolding him, “Don’t be rude, H.” Of course Harry doesn’t care, his usual cool unruffled as he murmurs simply, “They’re the ones being rude. Staring and shit.” At this the Omega quiets, drenched in panic by the time they’ve stopped at the entrance to his first class.

 _I can do this. I can do this. I can do this,_ Louis chants inwardly.

“Hey,” the Alpha breathes, tipping his face in one hand. “You need me and I’m here, yeah?”

Louis smiles the best he can. “I’ll be fine,” he reassures him weakly. Seeming to doubt this, the Alpha stays with him until seconds before the bell when Louis reluctantly ducks into the classroom. Having mapped out this room ages ago Louis doesn’t stumble stupidly, instead the Omega takes his usual seat at the back of the class (it’s not like he needs to see the board or anything, so he was shoved in the back. Which works for him because that means there’s no way anyone can stare…). And from there it’s relatively normal–except the stares _still_ burn through him evenly, but he’s easily distracted by his assistant and doesn’t mind them as he falls into courteous conversation.

The day continues like this.

Much the same occurs throughout the following weeks. But class is…different. People seem to pay him an unnecessary amount of attention, going out of their way to talk to him and compliment him. This makes Louis feel uncomfortable, especially when it comes to the Alphas. Then other Omegas are friendly enough, but they’re nothing like him, they’re posh and shallow and stuck up and Louis thinks that most of them don’t actually like him–which doesn’t bother him overly much because the feeling is mutual (and he subtly makes this known by remaining quiet through their meaningless prattles, opting to join Niall when he’s asked to partner up or working alone). And Louis decides to _not_ bring any of this up to Harry as the Alphas arrogance has grown impossibly over the course of these weeks–and his overbearing possessiveness even more so. Overbearing as it is, his Omega is absolutely _ecstatic_ and well…so is Louis. Because the Alphas mouth always ends up at their bonding-spot– _always_ , like his Alpha is drawn to the skin (well sometimes Louis entices–it’s difficult to have Harry kiss him and not urge the Alpha to his throat. It’s not intentional…but). And all the Omega thinks is _yesyesyes_ and _bond me bond me bond me_ because that is what his Omega _craves_.

So when Aiden and Max and Tom and so many others (whose names Louis cannot possibly keep track of) start insistently talking to him and asking to work with him and sit beside him (though Niall _is_ always by his side, the Omega doesn’t have every class with him–well doesn’t have _one_ class with him) and touching his hands…the Omega says nothing to Harry on the topic and begs Niall to keep his mouth shut, reminding the Irish boy that Louis is grounded until he’s _‘fifty, Ni! Fifty and it’s partly your fault!’_ until his best mate grumbles, “C’mon, Lou! H is going to flip some shit if this gets back to him! They’re being to…touchy. He’s going to smell ‘em on you.” And though he knows this is a very plausible possibility Louis stills says nothing.

Except one day when Max touches his face–which _no_ , Louis slaps his hand away and glares with about as much disgust as possible, promptly seeking out Aiden to talk to instead. And that’s the day Louis intends to tell his Alpha (out of guilt because he now realises Niall _was_ right, at least in Maxs’ case because the Alphas intentions aren’t only _friendly_ )…but once again Louis forgets all about Max. The entire occurrence slips his mind whenever he’s around Harry, smiling happily when the Alpha walks him to his classes or lunch or the library, holding his hand and kissing him as Louis giggles giddily at all the petty gossip Harry tells him that the two poke fun at together. And he’s content as possible under these circumstances, still messing about with Liam and Zayn (one night on the phone the Alpha _finally_ states that the two are a _thing_ which Louis fawns over to Harry, who groans every time, fondly disgusted) and Niall when the group is together and it’s…rather lovely.

It happens in October. And Louis thinks that next time he’s going to listen to Niall.

The dismissal bell rings, announcing they’re to move onto their second to last class, and Louis starts to pack his books as the class empties. The one Alpha, Aiden, the nice one that Louis truly likes (as a friend, of course), helps him, making meaningless conversation on the classes (English) reading assignment that Louis acknowledges with hums and nods. When the two exit the classroom they’re side-by-side. Before leaving him, Aiden calls cheerily, “See ya Monday, Lou! Happy Halloween. Should dress like that maid. That’d be ace.”

Cheeks burning, the Omega waves shyly as Aiden starts away–it comes as a shock when Harry’s hand closes around his wrist, grip strangely forceful. “Who is that?”

Still not registering the gravity in his scratching tone, Louis smiles softly, stumbling along as Harry walks them through the halls, “Oh, that’s Aiden, my partner–,”

“You fancy him?” the Alpha demands, halting abruptly so that the Omega goes stumbling forward. Of course he’s caught around the waist before he falls, but then Harry’s mouth is to his ear, voice cutting, “Wanna dress like a maid for him? Show him your pretty arse?”

Stunned, Louis blinks owlishly, going to answer when Harry continues, “Do you want him, kitten?”

“What?” Louis sputters, bewildered as the Alpha forces him into some corner, where it’s quiet and scarily private (horrible as it is, the Omega doesn’t want to be alone with his Alpha right now.) “Why would–?”

Interrupting, the Alpha holds him fast against the wall so the Omega’s flush to the structure. Gasping, the Omega beings to struggle, but then Harry’s hips are flush against his bum and _oh_. “You’ve been keeping secrets,” the Alpha purrs in his ear, “I hear you’ve made a lot of Alpha mates, Louis. I heard _a lot_ today. What comes around, kitten, goes around. Been a little slut, have you?” At the accusing tone, the Omega starts breathing rapidly, bone-numbing dread coursing through his body. _Keep calm, keep calm_ –he repeats the mantra over and over in his head as he struggles to speak.

“Have they tried anything?” Harry whispers when Louis says nothing. This time his voice is deathly cold as one hand grips his hip, urging his bum back against his hips, “Have they tried…? Did you let…?”

“What?! N-No! Haz, ‘s not–,” Louis tries to defend; hurt that Harry would even insinuate that.

In response the grip at his hip turns painful, bruising almost and the Omega drops his head, wincing, “H-Haz, stop,” he breathes, pleading. _Why is he doing this to me? To assure himself that I still want what he won’t give me? And why is he so angry? Doesn’t he trust me at all?_

“I don’t even want to call you mine right now. You’re so fucking bad sometimes,” the Alpha snarls. At the cruel words, Louis recoils, knocking into the Alpha so Harry releases him. Tears pool in his eyes and his bottom lip wobbles as the words torment through him.

“I-I was only being nice,” Louis whispers, hiding his burning face behind his trembling hands. “I-It w-wasn’t _like that._ I-I to-told them I was _taken_. And y-you know what?” The humiliation becomes wounded hostility in seconds as Louis wrenches out of the enclosed space, rubbing his hip where Harry’d been holding him. “I am not _yours or his or hers_. I am n-not a bloody _object_! You’re such fucking… _horrible_ sometimes.”

Around the static in his ears, the Omega manages to catch Harry’s sharp intake of breath. “Lou…I…”

Hoping to cool his burning cheeks, Louis places his freezing fingers over them, muttering, “We’re going to be late.”

“Wait. Let me–,”

At this point, Louis doesn’t care to listen. The hurts curled up tight in his chest and the angers still humming through his veins and Louis needs space to think about how to react. “I’m going to class, H. Are you going to walk me or not?” Louis asks, curling his arms around his belly protectively. Though there’s no answer the Alpha splays his hand over Louis’s lower back and starts to walk them through the halls. Even knowing the way to his class, Louis is so upset he doesn’t pay any mind to the campus’ layout until, at the last possible second, the Alphas touch disappears and he enters his class, head bowed low when the tardy bell rings.

Last class is one with Niall and though the Omega doesn’t want to talk about it, hiding his face in his blazer sleeve, the Irish boy gentles an explanation out of him until Louis is also hiding his tears, playing-through the events to Niall.

“Oh, babe,” the Omega murmurs, draping himself over Louis’s back, kissing his temple lovingly. “’M sorry. But…why didn’t you tell him?”

Louis snivels. “Be-Because Niall I knew he’s r-react like this! I didn’t do anything w-wrong and he was so _horrible_.”

“Yeah. He’s an arsehole,” Niall snarls–all Irish rage. And Louis feels a bit better trashing Harry’s name until he’s giggling at Niall’s elegancy put insults, “Fucking frog face with his fucking hair! I will kick him in the balls, Lou, wait until I get ahold of him! And fuck those stupid dimples. I will throw _rocks_ at his face!”

Giggling, both Omegas quiet as their teacher begins to lecture. But Louis can’t focus and misses what’s said until the dismissal bell announces their freedom and Niall asks, “Would you like me to deal wi’ him, lovely?”

Smile insignificant, Louis breathes, “’S okay, Ni. I’ll be alright to handle it.”

Kissing his cheek fleetingly, the Irish boy breathes back, “Alright. Call me when you get in then, yeah?”

Nodding, the Omega wave’s goodbye and takes his sweet time packing his bag before hooking it over his shoulder and wandering out the class nervously, knowing the Alpha is waiting. For once it isn’t very comforting.

Of course the Alpha is there, though Louis doesn’t greet him, simply walks straight until Harry wraps his arm loosely around Louis’s waist. Inwardly his Omega sighs and Louis fights the urge to sink into Harry’s side the entire walk. The two remain silent as Harry guides him to the lot. Then the Alphas touch leaves and Louis crosses his arms, waiting for him to begin (completely intending to ignore him no matter what is said).

“I’m sorry,” Harry starts quietly, sounding sincere enough that Louis softens instantly (but makes sure it doesn’t show on his face). “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. Just…that shit makes me so fucking angry. You are _mine_ and–,”

“You didn’t have to be so mean!” Louis interrupts unable to keep the defensive response back. “I-I didn’t do anything wrong! I…What did you want me to do, Harry? Tell them to piss off? You know that’s not me. I am not going to be rude and I am _not_ going to mess about with anyone else! I don’t want anyone else! I thought you trusted me enough to realise that.”

“I know. I know I fucked up. You’re so good. You know that. And I shouldn’t have started like that. But I was angry. I was angry and I wanted to tear their throats out because they want what is mine and I can’t handle that. I can’t, Lou. I was…”

“Jealous,” the word is spoken in unison as Louis finds the knowledge easily, unlike Harry, who sounds like this is his first realisation (the Alpha sounds _disturbed_ , like this never occurred to him before–at this Louis fights the smile playing at the corners of his mouth. _Poor, lost Alpha_ , he thinks empathetically, abruptly feeling…like the grown-up, which _whoa_ ).

“I was…jealous. Insanely fucking…jealous.” And Louis knows how difficult this admission must prove for Harry. That the Alpha admits it anyway causes warmth to chip away at the frost that’s swathed his heart. Wisely, Louis allows the Alpha to come to terms with this–it doesn’t take long as seconds later Harry’s standing in front of him, not quite touching, but staring down into his wide, unseeing eyes (surely).

Swallowing, the Omega plucks some courage, breathing softly, willing Harry to understand, “You can’t be like that, Haz. I’m going to have friends that are Alphas. You have friends that are Omegas, and I don’t act like…that. You…You called me a slut, H.”

“I know,” the Alpha grumbles sullenly–outrageously childish. Honest, how hadn’t Louis realised how much of a child Harry really is sometimes. “I know. Believe me, Lou, I _am_ sorry. Just…I can’t figure out how to…channel what’s screwing with my head. I…I don’t know.”

Reaching up the Omega cups his face in both hands, stretching on his tip-toes so they’re almost eye-to-eye. Or so he hopes, it’s impossible to really tell. “Learn. Learn because not every time you apologise am I going to be able to forgive so easy. Not every time you’re upset and throwing a tantrum, _yes a tantrum_ , am I going to let you insult me like that. You’re not allowed to control my life, Alpha or not. So _learn_.”

Without warning, the Alpha snakes his arms around Louis’s waist, crushing the Omega to his chest. With his nose pressed to the collar of Harry’s button-up, Louis inhales the natural scent of his Alpha.  Like this, the Omega purrs, having missed the open-aired-proximity they’d been denied with school and Dermot and groundings hindering them.

“Help me learn, kitten,” Harry breathes as he buries his nose in Louis’s hair. “Help me be better.”

Louis mirrors the passion, clutching Harry’s waist, mirroring the sweet tranquil after the storm. This sweet tranquil is what makes the storms addictive. As the Omega snuggles closer into Harry’s arms, those hands stroke down the curve of his spine through his clothes. “I promise,” Louis whispers fiercely. “While I can…I promise.”

Growling low in his throat, the Alpha’s arms tighten impossibly. “The babysitter is watching us.”

“Well,” Louis sighs, smiling fondly. “Touching _is_ prohibited.”

“I like touching, “ the growl’s playful teasing edge causes Louis’s insides to melt because playful Harry is limited to _him_ –to his knowledge the Alpha only plays with him like this. Purring happily, Louis listens to him continue, “I’m very… _tactile_. “

“Tactile?” Louis asks, wriggling against Harry suggestively. “Good with your hands then?”

“My hands. My mouth. My tongue,” the Alpha states confidently. At the husky timbre to the words, Louis flushes hot. “I like to think I’m especially skilled at using my tongue.”

Confused at the shift in topic, Louis says, feeling naïve once again, “I don’t know what you’re getting at, H.”

Throwing back his head, Harry laughs, “You’re so innocent.”

Blinking, the Omega teases coyly, “No. I’m a slut. A filthy little slut.”

“You could be _my_ slut. That’s always allowed. Welcomed even.”

Louis snorts. “As if! I am the town’s slut, thank you very much. You’re not special.”

“Ten more spankings for that comment,” the Alpha declares, amused as Louis gasps, pouting into his shirt. “Stop right there! That’s…No. That’s not allowed.”

“I call the shots ‘round these parts, kitten.” Ever-the-arrogant-Alpha, his Harry is.

“Tell that to my Mum,” Louis murmurs, grinning wickedly before shoving at Harry’s chest. “Take me home before she _really_ grounds me until I’m fifty.”

Groaning, the Alpha mutters, “We could always elope.”

“And go _where_?” Louis asks curiously as the Alpha opens the passenger side, helping him inside.

“Wherever you want.”

When the Alpha joins him, starting the engine and entangling their hands, Louis breathes hopefully, “Anywhere? Switzerland?”

There’s one low chuckle. “Out of all the places you want to go to Switzerland?”

“I like Switzerland,” Louis defends. “I like the Council there. Peaceful and accepting. There Alphas are mating other Alphas there, you know.”

“Yikes,” Harry winces, sounding disturbed (emphasizing his place in England’s Alpha-Omega-Paired strict Council). “No. No I wasn’t aware of this. I wonder how that works. What about heirs?”

“Well, I mean it’s an idea. There’s more a chance of Alpha heirs that way. Well, unless it’s Alpha-male and Alpha-male. Then I dunno what happens. But I hear it works better ‘cause you know the Omegas are drafting into mating most of the time. With more Alpha heirs there’s more harmony, no fighting over the Omegas.”

“But the Omega populous is already dwindling. They’re needed. Though I suppose the more Alpha heirs to the Council the better. There are rather…good-looking Alphas, I suppose.” 

At this, the Omega frowns, then asks the more pressing question, “Are you…You find Alphas attractive?”

“I did,” the Alpha confirms quietly, toying with his fingers and pushing the speed. “But not anymore.” _Gross_ , Louis thinks, never having understood the appeal of the same-faction attraction. Personally to him other Omegas aren’t attractive. Then again, he’s never tried that sort of relationship out.

“Why not?”

“Well…there are a few reasons. I mean it’s not like I could mate an Alpha. Not that I’d ever want to. But mainly because of you. You’re what I was looking for but… _better_. Alphas appeal was in their challenge–getting them to obey. And they fought the dominance. I liked that–having the power to make them submit. I like the challenge and I like the fight.”

“How…How does that have to do with me?” _I wouldn’t fight you on anything sexual–I am one hundred percent Omega and I can’t help that._ Just one more detriment to add to their inevitable fate.

“You’re so smart-mouthed and difficult sometimes. But so obedient all the same. You have…You’re _special_. Everything about you appeals to my Alpha. And you smell so fucking good, Lou. Never scented something so fucking good–sweet, but not enough that it’s headache-worthy, fresh and _pretty_.  I can’t even imagine how you’d taste.” _Taste? Where…down there?_

At the thought, Louis shivers, but breathes crossly, “Better than those stupid Alphas.”

When the Alpha laughs, the Omega squeezes his hand with all the strength he possesses in retaliation. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Good,” Louis snivels haughtily–extremely self-conscious but unwilling to let that be known. “I’m the best you’ll ever have.” _Funny_.

“Absolutely.”  And it’s so sincere, believable even. “I know that. I told you, you’re perfect for me.” Heart swelling with a nervous, heady elation the Omega thinks again _I love you. There’s no probably to it._ But refrains from saying anything for fear that those words will find his lips.

When they’ve reached his, the Omega sighs sadly, but lets the Alpha help him to his feet and to the gates. Cupping his face in both those unreasonably sized hands, Harry breathes, “Nobody. There’s no Omega or Alpha better for me than you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Breath stuttering, the Omega smiles timidly. “Too bad there are millions of Alphas and Omegas better for me than you, Harry Styles.”

“That’s not very nice, kitten,” the Alpha growls, thumbing at the corner of his mouth now. “It’s too bad you’re mine then. And I can’t wait,” his voice lowers a thousand octaves and one hand falls to his hip, practised fingers toying with the edge of his chinos. “to bend you over and spank you until my name is the only word you know.”

Mouth parting, the Omega shivers, and whispers, “You know I don’t want anyone else. No other Alpha but you, Haz. Only you.”

“I know,” Harry breathes smugly, nosing at his jaw. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Anticipation coils in his belly. “Please.”

“Can’t. Dermot-the-Dog is watching us and I don’t want him horny around you.”

Louis giggles incredulously. “Just ‘cause you’re a pervert doesn’t mean every other male is too.”

“That’s not the point,” the Alpha murmurs distractedly. “The point is that you’re so bloody tempting without even trying to be and maybe he’ll wonder what this mouth tastes like. And I’m the only one that’s tasted it. I want to keep it that way, too.”

Louis’s breathing becomes shallow as the Alpha strokes his bottom lip–mouth barely brushing his throat, nearing his bonding-mark. “H-How d-do you know you’re the only…one?”

In response Harry’s mouth pauses. “Was there someone else?” the Alpha demands, tense muscle coiling. Exasperated, Louis sighs, shoving him away and grimacing.

“Really, H?” Louis starts between clenched teeth. “Really right now? What is with you and–?”

Before the Omega manages to finish the Alpha holds him fast, mouth closing over his and Louis makes a shocked noise in the back of his throat, lashes fluttering shut as their tongues thrash against each other. This once, Louis fights for control, but of course Harry isn’t having it and Louis is so _pleased_ to submit seconds later, sighing as his fingers yank at the curls they’re clutching. “I’m still mad at you,” he says breathlessly when the Alpha’s mouth starts at his jaw.

“I know,” there’s a smile in his voice and well, Louis melts. _Maybe not so mad._

Stepping out of his grasp, Louis licks his lips. “Don’t call me. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I’ll call you in an hour.”

“I won’t answer,” the Omega hisses, storming up the drive and shoving his key at the lock until his purchase is made. Before he closes the door, Louis catches Harry’s pleased laughter and decides that he _really is not answering the bloody phone._

♥

It’s an hour and three calls before Louis caves–sprawled out on his belly on the bed with the phone to his ear, the Omega giggles like a little school-boy when Harry reads him Zouis (which happens to be his and Zayn’s ship name) posts.

“I ship it,” Louis giggles again with his face in one hand. “Zayn could teach me such things…”

Over the line the Alpha snorts, “Zayn knows enough but I doubt he can carry out whatever schemes it is you’ve got planned.”

Smirking, the Omega blurts, “I’m sure he’s sucked Liam off before.”

There’s one, tense beat of silence before Harry coughs, and mumbles something Louis can’t make out. “Does that make you uncomfortable, H?” Louis asks sweetly.

“Uncomfortable,” the Alpha scoffs, and there’s a rustle before, “Say somethin’ like that again, Lou, and I’ll have to get my cock in my hand.”

At this Louis’s breath catches as heat reaches his cheeks. But then he giggles, “You wish it was my hand.”

“Louis…”

“Okay, okay,” Louis teases, biting his lip, “But do you really think Zayn’s…you know with Liam?”

“God, Louis,” Harry groans in disgust. “Don’t start. I don’t want to know about Zayn and Liam’s…”

“Sexual relationship? I’m sure it’s further along than ours is,” the Omega grumbles, pouting now.

“Ours is perfect the way it is.”

“Yeah right.”

“So about the ship names…” the Alpha changes the topic until Louis is distracted. Honestly, there’s no winning. Louis loves him–he loves him, he loves him, he loves him. And suddenly that’s not such a terrible realisation.

♥

Halloween is spent with Louis huddled up close to Lottie’s side (as she decided to stay home with him rather than trick or treat this year) as she watches horror films. And Louis flinches each time someone screams and bites his knuckles to keep down his own little screams until he’s had enough. Though he claims to be tired, the Omega is a bit scared and when he climbs into bed that night he’s hidden underneath the blankets hoping his night-light is working because the thought of being in the dark right now, even though it’s _always_ dark, terrifies him. At least with the light on in the room there’s some semblance of comfort because well…light’s comforting. And darkness surrounded by more darkness certainly _isn’t_. At least not until Harry sneaks into his room–unexpected but so, so welcomed.

That night the Alpha finds him still underneath amass of blankets, nearly asleep as Harry’s body curls around his protectively (successfully eliminating the October chill the Alpha had brought through the window with him). Louis sighs, any lingering fear dissipated by Harry’s scent as careful fingers stroke his fringe from his face. “Hey, Sleepy. I missed you.”

Grinning sleepily, Louis huddles close. “Don’t you have some party to be at?”

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em.  I would rather be here with you.”

Louis’s heart lurches at the prospect, but it’s a short-lived joy. “Next time,” Louis mumbles around the dull disappointment that _they’re_ not going to have another Halloween, “You’re going to dress up as…Miley Cyrus!”

Chuckling slyly, the Alpha hums in agreement, “Very lovely choice.”

“I know. You’d be so pretty as Miley–heard she was very…cute in her jumpsuit. You’d be prettier with little piggy-tails in your hair.” Those are the two trademarks of Miley Cyrus that Louis can recall Lottie describing to him–up until now he hadn’t cared to listen much.

“You got it, little one. Stick out my tongue and everything.” Though Louis isn’t sure what he’s talking about, the Omega takes the shift in topic to his advantage.

“Your skillful tongue,” Louis teases, curling his fingers around the Alphas chains. “I have a very skillful tongue, too, you know.” Showing this, Louis kitten-licks the Alpha throat, “See?” he mumbles between little licks.

“An expert,” Harry agrees tensely, distancing them some to cup Louis’s face (the Omega hopes his eyes aren’t vulnerable as he’s feeling right now). Stretching, Louis grins dopily, settling his face in the Alpha’s throat again, purring contentedly when that scent swamps his senses. “Sleep, kitten.”

“You want to get out of touching me,” Louis accuses drowsily.

“’M touchin’ you now,” the Alpha reminds. At this, Louis smiles, mumbling, “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I know nothing.”

And that’s Halloween–the best one yet. Another of their firsts–probably their only. 

♥

                Thanksgiving is much the same–spent fooling around with the girls (this time it’s Louis’s turn to play ‘Barbie-make-over’ because it was Lottie’s turn last–so hours later when Louis emerges from the twins’ room, his Mum and Lottie both burst into delighted peals of laughter as Louis pretends to be thoroughly pleased–he isn’t very well going to spoil the girls’ fun–with the new look). Through dessert (a mug of chocolate ice-cream) Louis curls up close to his Mother on the sofa, sandwiched with Lottie on his other side, and decides he’s forgiven her when she removes the make-up and their heart-to-heart is subtle and careful until Louis feels a million times better with his circumstances.  When the girl’s are put to bed, Louis and Lottie stay up and help (well Louis mostly hands the dishes to the Lottie) clear the table, teasing each other and Louis hasn’t felt this happy at home in what feels like ages. It’s late when Louis returns to his room. “Welcome,” comes that deep, satisfied voice from the general direction of his bed. Smiling, the Omega sashays over to his bed, straddling the Alpha where he’s spread out.

“Made yourself at home, I see,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss him chastely (though he manages to miss and kisses the corner of his mouth instead).

Hands land on his hips–careful and hesitant. “Figured whilst I was waiting…”

Louis grins then stumbles to a stance again going into his wardrobe to snag a change of clothes–another pair of tights, pants, one of Harry’s jumpers, and fuzzy-socks, also grabbing the towel hanging from the door while he’s there. Back in the room, the Omega declares, “’M going to take a shower and clean up. Wait.”

As the Omega starts toward the door, one of the Alpha’s hands catches his wrist. “Don’t take too long.”

“Don’t boss me about,” Louis retorts pertly, tugging on his arm.

“Mmm…” In response Harry drawls, “Feisty tonight.” But there’s an excited note to his voice as his hand tightens again and he repeats, “Don’t take too long.”

“I’ll take as long as I want.” And before the Alpha can respond, the Omega wrenches his arm back and hurries out the door.

“Harry in there?”

Gasping, Louis whirls around, then manages, “God…Lottie! No!”

“Come on, Lou,” his eldest sister giggles knowingly. “You look like you’re about to get laid.”

Though the Omegas face heats with the realisation that his desire is visible on his face (Harry must’ve seen that) Louis squares his shoulders to seem taller, hissing, “Mind your own business.”

 “Well, I mean…I could always go in there and ask Harry meself. If that’s how you wanna be…”

“You wouldn’t,” Louis breathes despite knowing Lottie _would_. “Please, Lotts. Don’t.”

“Admit it,” Lottie murmurs so self-satisfied that Louis knows she’s going to present Alpha soon. Just knows it. “You’re trying to get some.”

But, Louis surrenders, face in flames. “A bit...”

Between pleased giggles, Lottie kisses his cheeks. “Good-luck, bro. I have you covered tonight; Mum and I are staying up late to start Christmas shopping.”

Grateful, the Omega smiles, then before Lottie can humiliate him anymore, escapes to the bathroom. And Louis takes his time in the shower, sighing when the steaming water cascades over him, and he holds up his face into the welcoming torrent. A while passes until the Omega scrubs the scented-soaps into his skin then hastily steps out, dries, and changes into his fresh clothing.

Refreshed, Louis creeps back into the room.

“Welcome back.” There’s an edge to the Alphas voice now as the Omega turns to face him. “Your shower lasted ages.”

“Oh,” Louis says noncommittally, crossing the room to the window seat, where he sits cross-legged, facing the window. There, the Omega wonders what a sight the world must prove right now, wander-lust flooding him. “Haz? What’s the most beautiful thing you’ve seen?”

When the Alpha sits beside him–toying with his hands–Louis knows he’s staring and exposes his eyes. “Well,” the Alpha murmurs slowly. “I’ve seen a lot.”

Interested, the Omega angles his head to the right as Harry continues, “But nothing compares to you.”

Not expecting this, Louis’s breath catches. “And what do I look?”

“You don’t know?” the Alpha asks incredulously.

Louis shrugs self-consciously, “I’ve heard. But I want to know what I look like _to you_?”

“Beautiful,” the word is an intense breath that sends warmth spiraling through him. “Otherworldly even. You have sharp features, and the fringe makes you appear almost…fairy-like. That’s my favourite look because it matches your eyes. You have such beautiful eyes, Lou. Sometimes I can’t believe they don’t see. Because they’re vivid and sharp and deep. And they hold a million words I couldn’t begin to comprehend.”

“I hate them,” Louis breathes bitterly. _They ruined everything. My stupid, useless eyes._

“You shouldn’t. Because you don’t need eyes to see, Lou. You don’t. You see right through me without them.”

“That’s…”

“The eyes are useless when the mind is blind, Louis. I didn’t realise the significance in those words until I met you. You’re not like them…You see, but it’s in whole other sense…and that’s so fucking…beautiful. You are so beautiful. And you’re all I see anymore.”

Those precious words…those stupid, precious words cause a warm glow inside to light up in his heart. The surge of love and gratitude streaks through Louis as the Omega throws his arms around Harry’s shoulders, unable to form a response that won’t be _I love you, I love you, I love you more than sight._

Time passes in silence; Louis listens to Harry’s heartbeat, and smells his scent, tinged with the scent of liquor. Though the Omega wonders when Harry’d been drinking, Louis doesn’t question it, stating quietly that he wants more ice-cream. And tonight the Alpha is especially daring (Louis realises he’s tipsy–if only a bit). Somehow Harry convinces him to allow them to leave the room in search of ice cream (because Louis is craving the sweets, and Harry…well Harry is simply insane). As they’re on their way, Harry stumbles, and Louis is so scared, heart pounding as his hands grip the Alpha’s hips, trying to keep him (like Louis could _really_ help) from bumping into something (he doesn’t want a repeat of that one time) and giving them away.

“’S fine, Lou,” the Alpha’s voice is nearly inaudible–nonetheless Louis flinches, paranoid.

“Hurry up,” Louis urges as the two enter the kitchen. Hastily, Harry rummages through the fridge and murmurs, “Bingo. Shall we eat this here? Don’t want to bring food up to your room. Mummy might be angry.”

Louis giggles into his hand. “Shush! Mummy is going be _livid_ if she finds us down here! Eating her ice cream no less.”

“Mm. You’re probably right,” Harry whispers, then his hands settle on Louis’s hips, urging him backwards so his backs to (what must be) the fridge. When the Alphas mouth brushes his softly, Louis’s heart flutters and the liquor is on Harry’s breath, and he _loves_ it as his lashes fall shut, adrenaline mixed with lust and longing rushing through his system. “God, I can’t get enough of you.”

Louis bites his bottom lip against a whine as the Alphas hips make flush contact with his belly, erection pressed tight between them. “You’re…trying to get us…caught,” Louis manages, voice breathy.

“Just one kiss,” Harry convinces. “And then we’ll go back upstairs.”

Just like that desire replaces the unease, coursing through his blood and settling low, low in his belly. Louis stretches on his tip-toe, “One.”

And when the Alphas mouth comes over his, Louis can’t breathe, senses flooded as Harry’s tongue is in his mouth, claiming and possessing him, and Louis revels in the force he’s using. The taste of alcohol is on his tongue, and his scent, and in the urgency of the contact. But the Omega doesn’t allow the contact to last, knowing if they continue he’s going to wrap his legs around Harry’s waist and let the Alpha have at him right here. “Ice cream,” Louis mumbles, “Lessgo.”

Leaving, their steps are surprisingly soundless until they’re back in the safe confines of Louis’s bedroom and he can _finally_ breathe easy again. Plopping on the carpet, the Omega opens the lid to the ice cream and then gasps, “Please, tell me you grabbed a spoon?”

When Harry remains quiet, Louis moans in horror, dropping to his back and throwing an arm over his face. “How could you forget the spoon?” he snivels dramatically.

And then Harry–the jerk–begins to laugh, muttering, “Honest, Lou, little more faith please. There were plastic spoons on the counterpane anyway. C’mere, lemme feed you.”

Delighted, the Omega hugs the ice cream container to his chest and scrambles comfortably into Harry’s lap, holding the ice cream between their legs. As the Alpha forces the spoon into the really, really frozen ice cream, the bloody thing cracks and Louis whines, two seconds from crying, “Oh my God. Please, please tell me there’s another.”

Now, Harry’s answering wince tells him what he’d feared. “No, no, no, _no_. I am going to have my bloody ice cream! I did not risk my life for nothing!”

Determined, the Omega rises to his feet, and mutters, “There’s gatta be something in here we can use as substitute spook.” As Louis rummages, Harry makes no move to help. “Haz, c’mon, quit staring at me and help.”

“I’m quite content where I’m at, cheers.”

Sighing, Louis shakes his head, but continues to hunt through his things until coming up with nothing useable. Upset, the Omega drags himself back to Harry’s side, sighing dejectedly, “’S hopeless. No ice cream tonight.”

When the Alpha chuckles, Louis pouts, snatching the ice cream and hugging it to his chest. “I hate your guts. And your bloody plastic spoon.”

“It’s melted a bit, if that helps,” Harry offers.

Irritated, the Omega grumbles, “Gee, so helpful.” But he’s _desperate_ , dipping his fingers into the sticky substance, finding it’s still chilled and frozen mostly solid. But the first sheet is wet and Louis smiles a bit, bringing his fingers up to his mouth, about to suck them clean when–, “Would you look at that,” Harry says, voice laced with sarcasm. “A taste of ice cream because…oh, right, Harry told his little brat it was melting.”

“Little brat?” Louis asks incredulously, surging forward and swiping his fingers across the Alpha cheeks and mouth, giggling happily when Harry makes a shocked noise. Snickering, the Omega returns to his ice cream, scooping more with his fingers (they’re numbing but it’s entirely worth it). Slapping more at Harry’s face, Louis breathes sweetly, cradling the ice cream again, “A taste for you, too, brilliant boy of mine.”

“What about you?” the Alpha bites back, grabbing him around the waist and rubbing their faces so the sticky rubs onto Louis’s skin too. “Ew!” the Omega whisper-shouts, bating at him, “Hazza, stop! You’re getting me all sticky! And that’s _my_ job–I’m supposed to get _you_ sticky.”

Laughing huskily, Harry breathes, “Are you? Go ahead then, I’m waiting.”

Thrilled, the Omega tugs hastily at the hem of Harry’s shirt, and when the Alpha complies, shrugging out of the top, Louis pushes his chest so Harry’s back-down on the carpet. Straddling the Alphas thighs, Louis smiles shyly, “I want to show you how skillful I am using my tongue.” Hesitant, the Omega scoops more ice cream, running his cold fingers along Harry’s collarbone. Under the touch, Harry tenses, but relaxes again when Louis rubs the substance into his skin, “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Louis breathes, adding another dollop to the Alphas right pec, chilled fingers lightly nearing his nipple.

“Just…” the Alpha mutters, voice rough, and Louis raises his eyes, peeking through his lashes for affect, biting his bottom-lip. “Just touch me, Ice-Cream-Fingers.”

Smiling, the Omega gains more nerve, lowering his drippy fingers to the Alphas right nipple. At the contact, Louis inhales sharply, snatching his hand away as Harry’s hips shove upwards, jostling him. “What…” he trails curiously, cheeks flushed.

“Pierced ‘em. Does my Omega fancy?”

Curiously, Louis brings his trembling fingers back, wisping them over the peaking bud, eyes comically wide at the feeling of the steel ring on either side. “Does it hurt?” he whispers, stroking a bit experimentally.

“’S sensitive, but in a pleasant way. I like the feeling.” Swallowing, Louis takes his hand back, adding more ice cream to the next piercing, then down the Alpha’s stomach, feeling the muscles jump under the touch and whining low in his throat at the feel of Harry, hot and solid under his cool palms. And his fingers, having been dipped into the melting ice cream once again, edge Harry’s waistband, chewing on his bottom lip because somehow his bums settled over the bugle in Harry’s trousers. The sensation burns in his belly as Louis circles his hips, tipping his head back at the feel.

“Fuck,” the Alpha stretches the word, following Louis’s movements. “So fuckin’ sexy like this, Lou.” 

Unable to contain the riotous sensations or the hormones rampage through his body, Louis runs his sticky hands up Harry’s chest, then over his shoulders, to his upper arms, feeling his biceps, strong, slightly muscular, _so sexy._ Tentatively, the Omega brings his sticky hands to Harry’s face, then into his curls, soft and unruly, tugging gently as Louis leans down to kiss his jaw. Groaning low in his throat, the Alphas hips lurch against his bum as Louis continues to mouth at his jaw, tasting the chocolate from the ice cream and sighing at the absolute _sensation_ flaming between them.

Leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down his throat, Louis pokes his tongue out, catching the melted, sticky chocolate over his collarbone. “Tastes yummy,” Louis grins, giggling at his next thought. “My chocolate Alpha.”

At this the Alpha laughs, but the sound is rough and tense and doesn’t last as Louis carries on, pressing kisses to his chest, licking and sucking and _tasting_ , nearing his right nipple. Mouth parted, the Omega breathes, “I…I want to kiss you here but…I don’t–,”

“Fuck. Fuck, Lou,” Harry hisses, grabbing ahold of his hair. “Put your mouth there. Now.”

Obedient, Louis kisses the piercing softly. Once, twice before leaving little kitten-licks over the pierced flesh, horribly lost on what to do. Determined, the Omega thinks about what Harry’d done to him so many months ago. Motivation finds him as Louis smiles shyly, dipping forward with his tongue poked out. Circling in that teasing way, Louis wishes Harry was more vocal because he doesn’t know if he’s making the right moves here.

And he’s about to give up, but decides he’d at least like to taste first, and flicks the tight, steeled bud once. It’s like a chain reaction–the Alphas entire frame jolts beneath his, the hand in his hair tightens, forcing him to stay put as Harry’s breathing accelerates. Suddenly, the Omega feels _powerful_ like this, mouthing at Harry’s skin and his piercing.

Humming, Louis licks wetly around the puckered flesh, whining low in his throat when Harry’s other hand finds his hip, forcing his bum back into the gyrating rhythm Harry’s taken on–grinding into his arse. _Oh. Yes._ Louis _loves_ this, licking and teasing and pleasuring the Alpha, likes feeling his erection heavy against his arse, likes the way his Omega body thinks he’s going to have that inside of him soon. _Yesyesyes_. Though he’s sloppy, inexpert in every way, Louis tries his best, going back and forth between the two, sucking and licking and purring until they’re swollen under his ministrations and the Alpha’s breathing roughens into profanities.

A warm, sensitive flush covers Louis’s entire body as the Omega tears away to grasp the ice cream again, scooping more to let the liquid drip from his fingertips and onto the heated peaks, grinning breathlessly because he’s having so much fun doing this even as he’s achy in his tights and his belly’s coiled tight again.

Capturing the right nipple between his teeth, Louis tugs gently with his mouth, whining at the chocolate taste and how _hot_ Harry is against his cool mouth. “Fuck,” Harry groans when Louis does this, hips surging against his bum, and his erection is so hot and large and _yesyesyes_.

Paying special attention to the steel-bars, Louis nips at them continuously, but doesn’t linger, pressing kisses across the Alphas chest, lowering to his stomach, licking the chocolate there, messy and tasty as the muscles ripple beneath his mouth and tongue.

“Lou,” the Alpha rasps, and Louis pauses, curious. “Wanna do somethin’ for me?”

Eager, Louis nods, sitting up expectantly. In response, the Alpha takes his hand and carries it to the front of his leggings, where he’s aching against the thin material. When his hand meets his heated, engorged flesh, Louis’s mouth parts and a gasp starts high in his throat before Harry sits up, clamping his free hand over the Omegas mouth. “Hush,” Harry orders, licking the shell of his ear, causing Louis’s arousal to throb. “You can’t make noise, little one. You can’t. Can you be quiet?”

God, Louis doesn’t know, but his head nods anyway, wanting to touch and to explore. When the Alpha answers, it’s amused, “I don’t believe you. But go ahead, touch yourself.” And then he releases Louis’s hand, which is light over his erection.

“H-How?” the Omega asks breathily, fringe matted at his forehead, panting and unconsciously grinding his bum down on Harry’s cock, feeling the sparks burst inside him.

There’s one stretch where the only sounds are their breaths until Harry asks, “You haven’t touched yourself before?”

Louis shakes his head wildly, because he _hasn’t_ and he’s clueless as to what he’s supposed to do, but desperate to do it all the same. “I-Is that bad?”

“No,” the Alpha croaks, voice so, so masculine. “’S not bad, lovely. Just…you’re so innocent. Such a turn on. Just…touch, baby. Feel yourself. Find what you like. Squeeze and stroke and _touch_.”

Swallowing, the Omega drops his head to Harry’s shoulder, and carefully does as he’s told, circling his arousal between his fingers loosely, feeling the length pulse hotly in his hand as pleasure swamps him. Against Harry’s throat, Louis whimpers, tightening his grip without permission as his body reacts to being so close to an Alpha so intimately. “Haz,” he breathes, mouth parted against his skin as Louis’s hand squeezes again, “Haz, I…I don’t know what ‘m doing…It…” _feels so good._

There’s one harsh breath before Harry whispers, “That’s okay, love. Do whatever feels good.”

Mindlessly, the Omega touches, hands frantically stroking where he aches most, tight and fumbling, lost to the sensations as the muscles of his abdomen tighten with every movement, building up to his orgasm.

Obeying an instinct Louis hadn’t known he possessed, the Omega twists a bit as he brings his hand up and fireworks explode in his belly as little mewls escape him, muffled because his teeth sink into Harry’s shoulder as the Alpha rocks against his bum, encouraging him.

And his hands speed up, racing to the same tempo as his heart as Louis struggles to remain quiet, biting so hard at Harry’s shoulder he thinks he tastes blood. “Fuck,” Harry growls, urging his face back to his shoulder when Louis tries to move away. “That’s right, kitten. Feels good, yeah?”

Not really listening, Louis nods frantically, keeping up his rhythm, _up and down…again and again…yesyesyes._ Breathing ragged, the Omega flicks his wrist a bit, squeezing around the where the wet-spots formed as his mouth parts, eyes pinched shut as the flames burst in his belly and wrack through his insides, burning him.

Before Louis can make the noise forming in his throat, the Alpha fastens a hand over his mouth again and pants, “Quiet, baby. You have to be…” but the rest fades out, doesn’t matter as his arousal throbs and pulses in his tight grip, his orgasm submerges his senses, body trembling violently.

When Louis returns to his body, the Omega realises he’s sprawled over Harry’s sticky body, cheek to his chest, and he can hear how the Alphas heart thrums, so fast it’s worrying.

Giggling, Louis struggles to breathe, feeling the residual melted chocolate cream spreading between them along with the mess in his tights, seeping through the material. They’re sweaty and sticky and Harry smells so, so _good_ , masculine with the tinge of alcohol and cologne and sweat and Louis purrs contentedly.

It doesn’t last. When the Alpha shifts, so the Omega is on his side with Harry cradling him, Louis frowns, able to feel he’s still achy against his hip. “Did…You didn’t like that?” Louis breathes, self-conscious and disappointed.

“You know I did.”

“Then why–?”

“I would rather _not_ cum in my trousers,” the Alpha says, annoyingly amused.

Louis pouts, then sparks with an idea, “You don’t have too. I mean…I…I could…?”

Crushing him to his chest, Harry laughs into his hair, throaty and so Alpha. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?” Louis asks, hurt.

“No,” the Alpha murmurs firmly, gripping his jaw and forcing him to raise his face. “No puppy-eyes and no tears or wobbly bottom-lip. I’m not rejecting you and you know it. You can feel how much I want you.” At this point his voice softens, “And you know I want to. But I can’t. My nerves are already shot and my Alpha is clawing at me. I don’t have that sort of control.”

“’M sorry,” the Omega whispers, voice breaking ridiculously as the tears swim in his blind eyes. “I just…I want to make you feel good, too.”

“You do,” the Alpha says simply–Louis doesn’t believe this and lowers his eyes, swallowing around the swelling in his throat. “Hey. Stop that. I’m not just saying that, okay? I don’t say things I do not mean. And I mean it when I say you make me feel good. I can’t explain _how_ exactly, because there’s no one way, but you do. You always make me feel so fucking good.”

“I bit you,” Louis whispers, hiding his face behind his hands. “Bet that felt _amazing_.”

“In the heat of the moment,” the Alpha surprises him with that grin Louis loves so much in his voice. “Now?” he winces, raising his hand and probably tracing the mark. “Not so much.”

“Awe, poor puppy,” Louis teases. “Gonna cry?”

In response the Alpha scoffs, very serious of sudden. “Cry? Alphas don’t cry. That’s pathetic.”

And Louis thinks the strength and absolute conviction in that statement is absurd, and hopes desperately that Harry doesn’t actually believe that. “Everyone cries, baby,” Louis breathes, gentle, because he doesn’t want to start bold and have Harry push him away (he’d been at this point once, and pushed and bottled everything up…So he’s quite sure he knows how to approach these situations), eyebrows furrowed. “Even Alphas.”

Tense, the Alpha speaks quietly, “I don’t cry. I haven’t cried since I was practically an infant.”

Louis knows without a doubt that’s not healthy–though he’d never admit it, often he’ll cry in the shower about trivial things that have hurt his feelings or significant things or _anything_ and it helps, letting it go for a little while and washing the negativity away with the tears helps. “That’s…But…How do you let things go?”

There’s a shift–shrugging. “Just don’t think about it. If it doesn’t exist, it doesn’t matter.” Okay, Louis thinks, defensive in seconds, that is the stupidest thing to come from Harry yet.

“So you can’t face your problems then?” Louis demands, truly angered by this, “Which is worse, crying a bit or festering in pessimisms?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now,” the Alpha states, composed as ever.

Louis sighs in exasperation. “You’re avoiding it right now. You have to talk about it sometime.”

“You avoid things all the time,” the Alpha points childishly.

At this, Louis huffs. “Honest, H? We’re not talking about me right now–,”

“This conversation has officially ended.”

“Why can’t we have one decent conversation expressing ourselves? Why are you so afraid of this?” And seconds-to-late, the Omega realises using the word _afraid_ wasn’t the right one because Harry growls, obviously offended, rising to a stance and snatching his shirt.

“I’m not _afraid_ ,” the Alpha retorts, stalking around the room and in the direction of his wardrobe. Slowly, the Omega sits up, hugging his knees to his chest.

“You’re afraid,” Louis murmurs, stubborn and not giving in–willing Harry to come to terms with this.

“Jesus,” Harry mutters, sounding beyond angry from where he emerges from Louis’s wardrobe (inwardly, his Omega whimpers, scrambling away from the word but Louis only holds his knees tighter, ignoring the stickiness in his tights for the moment). “No. I am not feeding into this argument. Stand up.”

Obedient, the Omega listens, but snaps, “It’s not an argument. I’m trying to _talk to you_.”

“I think,” the Alpha murmurs coolly, “that this isn’t the _talk_ we need to be having right now. Wanna talk? Let’s talk about what happened a few minutes ago.”

Cheeks warm, Louis mutters, “There is nothing to talk about.”

“Not likely, kitten. Not fucking likely.” And he sounds satisfied enough that Louis wants to slap him (or cry–the latter is more realistic, but hell if Louis admits this).

“Talk to me, then,” Louis mumbles, squirming and feeling the sticky liquid begin to slide down his leg. Embarrassed, his hands cover his front, and his eyes are cast down.

“You should change first,” Harry’s voice has softened. Louis swallows, relieved when the Alpha places some sort of clothing in each of his hands. “Right is a little towel to wet in the bathroom and clean up. Left is what you’re changing into.”

With his head hung low, Louis sighs, then hugs the material to his chest, creeping out of the room again–hoping desperately that he’ll manage to find some composure before returning.

♥

When the Omega leaves the bedroom, Harry sucks in a steadying breath, shoving his shaking hands through his wayward mane, grimacing at the gluey feel that clings to his torso and his hair and face. Ice cream. Bloody ice cream.

“Afraid,” the Alpha sneers, removing his shirt again (hissing at the rough pull against his sensitive nipples) to chuck it to the carpet beside the ice cream container. “Not fucking afraid.”

As of now, Harry feels scraped raw and exposed in the worst fucking ways and he does not find this feeling pleasant. Not at all. Hell, the Alpha doesn’t understand these feelings and anything he doesn’t understand he’s not on right terms with (except Louis, who is _always_  the only fucking exception).

Adjusting his straining cock, Harry sighs at the bit of relief the touch provides before continuing his aimless pacing until Louis returns tense moments later. Prowling beneath his skin, his Alpha’s clawing and chewing his control bloody at the very sight.

And what a sight it fucking proves–the boy looks extremely ethereal in the mild moonlight. Alabaster skin, chestnut hair smoothed back, lips swollen red, forget-me-nots bright. So tempting. Just like that, Harry’s hands begin to sting to grab his sexy little body up. Hell does it take whatever’s left of his sanity to park himself in the window-seat, speaking softly, coaxingly, because he can feel the boys sharp spikes of anxiety and hesitance, “Come ‘ere, kitten.”

Extremely cautious, the Omega nears, raising his left hand in Harry’s general direction. Before the Alpha can ask, the Omega explains, “I…I took one of the bath cloths. ‘S damp. So I, um, can wipe away the left-over’s?”

Well _fuck him_. Touched by this, Harry breathes, voice winded and surprised, “I…Thanks.” Settling on his knees on the window-seat, Louis starts at his cheek, strokes careful and gentle. The tension leaves Harry’s shoulders in seconds.

“We can’t keep doing that,” Harry tells him quietly.

The cloth pauses, then continues as Louis asks, seemingly focused on his work, “Doing what?”

“That,” the Alpha mutters reluctantly. “I can’t come here every night to…to fuck you, Louis. It’s not…No.”

At the words, the Omega’s assiduity falters, and then he whispers warily, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You didn’t…I mean, we didn’t… _do that_.” And then those alluring lips arch with a trace of a smile as Louis slaps the cloth at Harry’s chest. “What other Omegas have you been sleeping with, Styles?”

Somehow, even now Louis makes him laugh. “Stop avoiding the topic, kitten,” he murmurs when the Omega’s reached his right nipple. The sensation sends shocks of pleasure through his bloodstream as Harry inhales sharply through his teeth and Louis asks obliviously, “Do you think these will get infected? I dunno that ice cream’s particularly good on piercings.”

At this, the Alpha rolls his eyes. “They’ve healed. And your evasive answers aren’t working.”

Blowing out an entirely defeated breath, the small boy mumbles, “What is so wrong with us…doing that?”

Shutting his eyes from the provocative sight, Harry murmurs blandly, “A lot.”

But this is the wrong response as misplaced desolation filters through the bond. In seconds the Alpha’s cradling the boy in his lap, stroking his hair and speaking hastily, “Wait. Wait, let me explain.” When he’s sure Louis is listening, Harry continues, “You’re sixteen, Lou. Sixteen. So young and irresistible and strong and charming and there shouldn’t be any thoughts of mating or bonding or sex right now. Not right now. You know I want it. But we have _time_ , kitten. My feelings aren’t going to change. I don’t need to do any of that. And neither do you. You haven’t even gone through your first heat, Louis! Just…fuck, I’m shit with talking about things, I know. And I want to feel bad for taking advantage of your hormones, and I want to feel _bad_ for putting my mouth on you and starting the…removal of your innocence, I want to…but I _can’t_. I can’t because I loved every fucking second of it. You’re _mine_. And I want you. More than anything else. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We have a lot to figure out and I have a lot of bettering to do before I am…worthy of that. We have to slow it down.”

“But why _not_?” Louis breathes, honestly puzzled. “I…You know my feelings aren’t going to change either. You know that. And I know _we_ have a lot of bettering and fixing and everything but _why_ do we have to slow down the physical relationship?”

With another calming breath, the Alpha manages, “’Cause, Lou…I can’t…do that to you. I can’t. I can’t do that because the more sexual you are with me, the more Alpha I will be with you.” _The more I will have the urge to own you._

“I…I don’t understand.” _Lord, save me._

“I couldn’t stop grinding my dick into your arse earlier,” Harry admits, cock twitching at the _idea_ –that’s all it takes. “All I could think…All I could think about was getting you on my knot. Because my Alpha is so fixed on _you_ now, you make it difficult to _control and contain_. And when your pheromones are in my atmosphere that’s all I smell and your mouth and skin is all I taste and _I fucking want you._ ”

Louis gasps at the ending growl.

“I want you,” Harry breathes, pained. “And when you’re teasin’ me like that, all Omega and beautiful, my Alpha is so close to the surface. I couldn’t stop that, Lou; I don’t have that level of control. And that scares me. I can’t get to that point with you because you’re _too young_ and you’re not ready. And I’m sure as hell not ready. We’re not ready. And I won’t be the one to fuck this up. Tell me you understand that?”

“So it’s not because…not b-because you _don’t_ want me _enough_ but because you want me too much? So you want to give this…more _time_ before anything uncalled for occurs?”

“Exactly,” the Alpha breathes, grinning at the negotiating tone the boys taken on. “Before you’re caught on my knot at sixteen years old and _illegally_ at that and even worse, _grounded_.”

Louis giggles, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Like my Mum compares to the Council.”

Now, the Alpha is grim, making this known. “Louis, your Mum…she’s scary, babe. I couldn’t care _less_ about the Council, but Jay…” he winces, and shudders in (exaggerated) horror. “She has too much power over me. She can take _you_ ,” Harry taps his nose, “away.”

“Haz, I promise my Mother can’t keep me away from you forever. And she wouldn’t try.”

“Never say never.”

“And I couldn’t care less about my Mother, but the Council…” his voice trails, then, “So many Alphas I wouldn’t stand a chance against.”

Motionless, staring forward blankly, Harry comforts, “You won’t have to. I…I’m not going anywhere. As long as you want me, I’m here.”

Cool, small hands urge him to lower his face as Louis breathes, “’S okay, Haz. I understand. There’s so much you have to be…but I don’t think the Council realises you need to be _just you._ ”

“Just me?” Harry asks, voice barely-audible as he drowns in sincere, blue depths…yet breathes the freshest air all the same.

“Just you. Just Harry.”

“But…I don’t know who I am,” the Alpha acknowledges for the first time, voice hollow and uneven with the realisation.

“Starting tonight,” the boy is calm and comforting and so fucking _lovely_ , “we’ll make sure you figure that out. Tell me, Haz, tell me what makes you _you_. Let’s start here, now. Hi, I’m Louis, Louis Tomlinson, and I’m afraid of the dark.”

Swallowing, the Alpha whispers, despite never having understood this fear (Louis is beautifully bizarre and _fuck_ its _lovely_ ) because it doesn’t make sense to him, “Hi, I’m…Harry. Harry Styles. And I’m…I’m afraid of ending up like my Father.” 

The confession strangles him inside, but it also loosens the fisted grip he’s learnt to live with for so long around his lungs. And the pride that lights up Louis’s face, that leaches from the bond and thrills in the current, makes Harry want to admit _everything_ , to trust in this honest Omega and to trust in himself and to find whoever the hell Harry is because he’s so fucking tired of living in a mind he doesn’t know.

And fuck Harry hadn’t realised until this time, hadn’t realised he wants to know _himself_. And he wants to be the Harry he _finds_. For himself, for Louis.

♥

 

                November seems to last ages. Or at least Louis thinks so–the days before this one seem to always drag on, creating some cruel suspense until Louis struggles to breathe, panicking whenever he’s alone for more than five minutes. It’s exhausting. And endless. But mostly exhausting because Harry Styles is the most infuriating Alpha in the world–or the country at the very least–and getting information from him is like pulling teeth. Maybe giving the information is like having teeth pulled for Harry–either way it’s extremely exhausting. Still, Louis manages, knowing it’s not that Harry doesn’t want to let him in, more so the Alpha is scared. So he evades, and most of the time succeeds. And the information Harry _does_ divulge is more often than not trivial, little revelations–each Louis praises the Alpha for because he _cherishes_ knowing what these trivial facts, that Harry only tells _him_ , are–the Alpha’s favourite sport, hobbies, interests. _Everything_ and _anything_.

But the Omega also wants him to heal and grown and it seems that Harry’s stuck in the same, stony place. Even knowing this, Louis tries–he pushes and prods until Harry’s sighing in exasperation, or they’re ignoring each other, or shouting and ranting or quietly persuading until the Alpha caves. Yes, Louis uses this to his advantage–uses Harry’s partiality towards him to his advantage, but he comforts himself with the knowledge that he’s not using it to harm the Alpha, rather to help him. And there’s significant difference.

Blessedly, the end of the November approaches, but first comes the worst day of November. Though it’s been _years_ the Omega knows what happens on this day, associates it with _all_ of the worst days of his life. And he’s always loathed November–the month is never kind to him. There is always _something wrong._

So naturally November 24th begins in the worst way possible.

♥

                The room is still–dissonantly _still_. And the Alpha doesn’t like this–doesn’t like how still Louis is beside him because Louis never sleeps still. But his emotions are nonexistent with sleep, and Harry is unwilling to wake him at three A.M. on a school night. Instead, Harry watches, watches and protects the sleeping boy, guarding, like those _fucking mutts_ he’s been afraid of becoming. But too fucking late–can’t take it back now. And he wouldn’t because that would mean Louis wouldn’t be safe as possible, which, _fuck that_. Louis comes first. Always Louis. Though all too soon, restlessness settles over him.

In the still night, Harry rises from the bed, tucking the sheets around his sleeping Omega and going to the door. Opening it quietly, the Alpha leaves the room to soundlessly make it into the still-sleeping kitchen where he grabs a glass of water. Though he shouldn’t risk it, the Alpha pauses to inhale the homely scent, tinged with Omegas’ scents but less overwhelming than in Louis’s room.

Shaking his head, the Alpha feels world-weary, but lets the calm of the kitchen calm _him_. Closing his eyes, he sighs, leaning against the cabinetry. Except the peaceful tranquility is shattered by a broken cringe-worthy cry–the sound has every single Alpha gene that makes him _crazed_. _Louis_. Confused, the Alpha bolts back into the bedroom (hoping like hell that Jay’s not a soft-sleeper) before the echoes of that fucking sound have died away, heart thrumming with alarm.

Closing the entrance as softly as possible, the Alpha finds Louis tossing and turning, writhing in agony. _No…No, oh love._ Mirroring him, the Omega shrills, “ _No_!” A disturbing sound that lances through Harry again.

A nightmare.

“Kitten.” Leaning over him, the Alpha grips his tenuous shoulder, shaking softly. The touch sends a frenzy of terror through him straight from Louis, whose eyes open, wild and vacant, blindly scanning the room before thrashing against him. “I can’t see. I can’t…See…Dark…Help me…I can’t…” Louis mumbles incoherently, the panic gripping him again. “Please, n-no, _no_ , d-don’t hurt…do…don’t hurt me!”

“Louis,” Harry says, forcing the Alpha into his voice. “Louis, calm down.”

Breathing frantic, terrified breathes, the Omega whines, recoiling and curling into an achingly protective ball, “P-Please,” he whispers now, “I’m s-s-sorry. I-I’ll b-b-be g-good.”

Managing to hold back the growl threatening to rip from his chest, Harry stretches out beside him, cautiously gripping his wrists to take the hands concealing his face away. Though the Omega begins to struggle, the Alpha doesn’t give, breathing, “Good boy. Let me…Yeah, you’re such a good boy. The best boy.” At the praise, Louis shakes his head frantically, but let’s himself be dragged into Harry’s embrace. “No,” the Omega mumbles into his shoulder. “No, I am not good. I am _bad_. S-So, so _bad_. T-That’s w-w-why no-nobody c-c-can l-love me.”

Ice rains down on him, soaking through his skin, passing his muscles and into his bones. As the cool fire spreads, the Alpha clutches his sweet boy close, impossibly close, and the words are on the tip of his tongue, those three words that are going to _destroy_ him inside. “I…” but he _can’t_ , he can’t say it. God fucking damn it. “I adore you. I…I’m Harry, and I adore an Omega who’s perfect without his vision. A very special Omega.” _And I also despise that I adore you so fuckin’ much._

Those words don’t seem to help though as Louis shakes his head, mumbling, “I hate it. I hate it, Haz. I want to see you. I hate how much I need you. But…I c-can’t hate _you_.”

“You know the power you have over me, too, Louis,” Harry manages, heart gunning at his ribcage. “You could bring me to my knees with one word. And you could also make the happiest Alpha in this shit universe with another three.”

Not catching on, the Omega shakes his head again, “What words? What words would make you happy?”

It’s always like this–Louis giving and giving and _giving_ , selfless in always Harry’s never experienced before. And _fuck_ does Harry _hate it_ –hates that he can’t manage to give Louis even a quarter of what the boy gives him every second of the every minute of every hour of every fucking day. But he’s selfish–always has been when it comes to Louis. “Starts with an L,” is what the Alpha hears himself say, closing his eyes as the buried self-disgust lances through him again.

“An L…” Louis repeats, confused, but mere seconds pass before his voice softens, “Love?”

When it becomes apparent that Harry isn’t going to respond, the boy mumbles into his shoulder, “You already know how I feel.”

“I know,” he says, because he _does_ , and that serves to make everything _worse_ , arms constricting around the Omegas slim waist. Nameless emotion expands in his chest. “I know. Just…I…Fuck, I’m scared, okay?” And the words shred through his insides, leaving his pride in tattered pieces at his boy’s feet. Now that the floodgates been broken, his words flow with intentions Harry doesn’t _have_ , “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I can’t say the words. I’m sorry I’m so bloody scared. Afraid like you said. I’m afraid of this. Of what I’m feeling right now.”

“It’s okay to be afraid, H. I’m scared all the time. How…How are you feeling, baby? Please, help me understand.” So caring and gentle and _Christ why does Louis do this to him?_ One little boy with so much _power_.

Squeezing his eyes shut, the Alpha nuzzles Louis’s throat, seeking comfort in his scent. “I don’t know…I don’t know, Louis. It’s like…like…I feel like…” _Come on, H, fucking say it, say it, say you feel like you’re in love,_ “I don’t know.”

Silence follows. So many chilling beats where the Alpha is slashed through with Louis’s disappointed, his voiceless hurt–in these moments, with the knowledge that he’s disappointed the Omega (like he’s done everyone else) Harry wants to blurt the truth, or anything Louis wants to hear. Anything. “Louis, I–,”

“’S alright, H,” Louis interrupts, voice hushed in the eerily still darkness. “Don’t. Not tonight. ‘M tired. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry voices hollowly when the boy withdraws their contact, hugging the thick throw to his small, compact frame and curling onto his side, no longer facing him. Like Louis doesn’t want to see him, not even through his voice.

“I am too.” It’s said in the most genuine tone as Louis relaxes. “It’s okay. We’re okay.” _Are you okay? Please, be okay._

“Are we?” the Alpha whispers doubtfully.

“I think so…”

“I…Don’t,” Harry pleads desperately, gathering the Omega into his arms, and burying his face in the slope of Louis’s throat. “Please don’t shut me out.”

Motionless, Louis murmurs softly, “I’m not. I’m trying to protect myself.” _From me,_ the Alpha finishes, feeling those words tear through his chest, pitching through his lungs. And suddenly it’s like he can’t breathe. Like his airways have closed up or his lungs are collapsing. “I just…I hate the complications. I want…I want to keep this _simple_ while we can. LouisandHarry.”

“But love is never simple, Harry,” Louis breathes sadly, “Especially not with people like us. Like me.”

“Like you? There is _nothing wrong with you_ ,” Harry growls fiercely, completely meaning this. “It’s me. I…I don’t know how to handle _change_. I can’t.”

“Love is always changing, H,” the Omega whispers sagely.

“That isn’t true,” Harry disagrees as the pain numbs–still lurking in the crevasses but no longer _felt_.

“It is. You’ll realise one of these days.”

 _Too fucking young to be this fucking smart._ Frustrated, the Alpha goes to make the fucked up comment that Louis doesn’t know _anything_ about _anything_ and never _has_ , but the Omega saves him, continuing quietly, “Goodnight, H.”

When the boy shuffle to what must be his side of the mattress now, farthest from the door, Harry doesn’t attempt to bring him back. Instead, Harry flattens on his back and stares up at the ceiling, attempting to find the meaning behind Louis’s words in the darkness, because some meaning must be there, with Louis.

♥

Light returns too soon–before the Alpha even manages to search the entire vicinity of darkness in the room, to find _anything_ , then again he probably wouldn’t have had he been given _years_ to search-stare. Because he’s not Louis, darkness hasn’t been his entire life. So their perceptions are blurred and on different polar-poles and it’s one of those details Harry despises. So when the sun peaks through the curtains, Harry rises stiffly, something hollow and cold having settled in his chest as he shoves into his boots and stares at his sleeping boy. Once again, he’s too still, curling into that protective fetal-position, expression not smoothed with sleep. Sleeping but still tried. And his chest aches, knowing he’s caused this. Because he couldn’t stop being so fucking pathetic.

Guiltily, the Alpha slips through the window before the Omega wakes again, returning to the manor to shower and change, unable to even glance at the stranger in the mirror this morning.

When he returns to Louis’s, the boy is uncharacteristically quiet–neither Alpha nor Omega does anything to disrupt the silence, scarcely even touching because the Omega flinches away from the contact when Harry tries to even grab his hand. So no touching today–alright, he can handle that. Except _no_ , no he really fucking _can’t_ , his skin is tight in that stretched-to-fit way and his hands are shaking uncontrollably already. Inside he feels a mess–emotions, emotions, emotions, denial, denial, denial, _numb, numb, numb._

Such an absolute fucked-up _mess_.

But still the silence continues because Harry hates filler-conversations and Louis seems lost in his own thoughts, eyes closed in that concentrated way. And when the Alpha helps him out of the vehicle, meaning they’re touching all of five seconds _(relieving bliss–Christ, how is he going to be able to go through this day without?)_ before Louis is standing and taking his hand back. It’s then that Harry reads those eyes–so lost, pale, almost grey this morning with this cool apprehension lurking in them (the Alpha feels the look cut through each of his nerves with every blink. One by one. Cut by cut. Blink by blink).

But still _nothing said_ –as Harry walks Louis to his first class, he doesn’t bring himself to ask, and Louis doesn’t tell, leaving him with one small, distracted smile.

And it continues like this–that frigid anxiety flowers in his chest, the roots finding life in his lungs, and Harry’s hands continue to shake, focused on the bond during every single class, desperate to make sure Louis is _okay_. But his emotions are so clouded today that it takes everything in him to not leave his in class in a dead-run, find Louis, and beg to know what the fuck he did to deserve this. Though he can reckon it’s what he _didn’t_ do, _didn’t say_.

Throughout lunch, the Alpha doesn’t miss the way Liam and Niall act–how the two are extremely careful (a feat for Niall) with their words and touching Louis, who plays with his water-bottle cap, unfocused eyes lowered to the table.

“So, how’s the grounding?”

Seconds pass, the table in silence because Louis doesn’t answer Zayn, not even listening, until Harry swallows and manages, “Hell. But we manage.” _Yeah fuckin’ right–is this managing?_ his Alpha sneers inwardly.

Breaking the awkward, Niall throws crisps at Louis, and the boy blinks, mumbling flatly, “Stop it, Niall.” Like a reprimanded child, Ireland shrinks (Harry might even flinch–he’s never heard that tone and that Louis would use it with Niall…), frowning before Liam sends him a disapproving look. “Not today, Ni. You know better.”

_Know better? What does everyone seem to know that I don’t?_

“You feelin’ alright, Lou?” Zayn tries again, genuinely worried, shooting a questioning (slightly reproachful) look at Harry who’s staring into Liam’s soul as Liam pretends not to notice.

“He’s fine,” the Alpha answers, figuring Louis won’t, but his best mate kicks him under the table.

“Lou?” Zayn asks again, soft and concerned.

“Um,” Louis mumbles, the little _v_ between his brows as he seems to rouse. “What?”

When Harry’s best mate repeats himself, Louis murmurs lamely, “Oh. Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Sure? You’re quiet, which is a feat.” It’s said lightheartedly, but everyone at the table tenses until Louis smiles that same small, distracted quip. “Positive, Z. Cheers.”

And so lunch goes until the Alpha walks Louis to his second to last class, turning on his heels to track down Liam, who happens to be at the entrance to Zayn’s class, the two are talking quietly in deep conversation when Harry grabs the other Alphas upper-arm. Defensive, Liam glares, then relaxes when he realises who it is, but his mouth thins and Harry thinks he knows what’s coming to him.

“Let’s chat, Liam.”

“Harry,” his best mate warns, looking thoroughly unmoved, “Don’t start.”

Disregarding Zayn, the Alpha murmurs again, “Chat. Liam. Harry. Now.”

Sighing, Liam leans down to Zayn. Not wanting to his see his best-mate so intimate, Harry looks away, then let’s Liam yank out his grip so they’re walking side-by-side. “What’s up?” the other Alpha tries to be casual–it’s not working; Harry can practically scent his discomfort.

“What’s wrong with him?” he demands, turning the corner towards study-hall.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Liam states coolly.

“Don't lie to me, Li,” Harry growls. “This is not the time.”

Studying him with those fucking puppy-eyes, Liam asks quietly, “He hasn’t told you, has he?”

Defensive, the Alpha bares his elongated canines. “Told me _what_?”

Now the Alpha looks sympathetic–Harry wants to claw that look from his face. “’S not my place. Like you couldn’t tell me about Z, I can’t tell you about Lou. Just don’t…let anything happen to him today, okay? That’s all I can say. Protect him the best you can without invading his space.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to _mean_?” the Alpha asks, frustrated and confused and feeling out of his mind. But the words cause something to click in his brain–he’s thought this day was random, but realises it’s _not_ , it’s specific, the nightmares don’t occur anymore, last night being the first in months, and then…Exhausted, Harry breathes, “What happened on this day?”

When Liam doesn’t respond his rage returns and he snarls, “God fucking damn it, Payne, _what happened?_ ” Struggling against his Alpha, he barely manages to contain the animal, opening his eyes to find that Liam’s paled.

“You can’t act like that with Louis, H. Not today. You can’t do that.” And he sounds vaguely panicked and torn and Harry almost feels bad for putting him in this position. Understanding the best-friend-code, Harry murmurs, “He won’t let me touch him. He’s spoken all of four words to Zayn and Ni. Not me. Everyone is acting like…like he’s made of glass! And he’s acting like he’s not even fucking here! And I am so fucking worried right now! And…” _scared_. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Li.”

At this, the fucking idiot starts to laugh–actually _laugh_ , like this is somehow _funny_. “My fucking God,” he manages around breaths. “Wow. I never thought to see the fucking day. How months can change everything…Wow.”

“What the fuck is _funny_?” he snarls, fisting his hands.

At the palpable rage in his voice, Liam blinks, then coughs, “Have you told him yet?”

“Told him what?”

“How in love with him you are,” Liam says, like it’s so bloody obvious.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry denies slowly. “Alphas of the Council don’t _love._ We’re incapable.”

“You’re not a Council Alpha,” Liam states, curiously watching him again–like he’s some fucking lab-animal. “You’re not immune to emotions. That’s not possible at such a young age–yes, I’ve done my research so don’t try to bullshit me, Styles. You love him. Own up to it.”

“Fuck you,” Harry spits, baring his teeth. Trapped, needing to escape this conversation, the Alpha considers walking away, but he _can’t_ –not without knowing how to help Louis. Because even now Louis is all that matters. And fuck this must be love–even though it doesn’t make _sense_. How the fuck does someone love another when they can’t even love themselves? Simple, they don’t. They’re incapable. That’s fucking _it_.

Shaking his head, Liam presses, “Think about it, H. Would you worry like this over any other Omega? Would your Alpha bond with any other Omega? Would you care so much for any other Omega?” _No, no never–those Omegas aren’t Louis, they don’t matter._

Swallowing, the Alpha mutters, “Just tell me what I need to do.”

“You’re really fucking _stupid_ ,” Liam growls, voice rising with some spark of rage. _Tell me something I don’t know._ “You’re fucking stupid. You’re going to lose him. You are. I see that happening already. Because you don’t know how to open up and admit _anything_. And Louis _needs_ someone that can assure him of those things to sooth his doubts because _fuck_ does that boy have many. Self-doubts, world-doubts…But you can’t do that. You’re going to lose him. And it’ll only be your _fault_.”

With those words, the other Alpha stalks up to him, holding his gaze, barely withheld rage hissing between them. “You want to help him? Talk to him. Tell him nice things and make sure they aren’t _lies_. Tell him all those things you love about him and how perfect he is for you. Tell him he’s good. And _enough_. And make him feel loved. Even if it’s only an illusion.”

At the last words, Harry flinches. “It’s…It’s not an illusion. I couldn’t fake those feelings.” _He is loved…He’s loved. It’s impossible not to love him._

Liam searches his eyes, then lets out an exhausted breath, muttering, “Take care of him, H. This is your chance.” Without giving him a chance to respond, Liam turns on his heels and walks away, rounding the corner at the end of the hallway. _This is your chance._

His chance? His chance to prove to Louis that he can be better, that he can love him, that he _does_. Without saying the words.

Sending a prayer to whoever is listening, Harry prays and prays like it’s a litany that he can manage to work through this. For Louis. For _LouisandHarry._

Not bothering to show up to class, the Alpha sends the remainder of the time repairing the damage to his control. But his thoughts are irrepressible, rushing every which way and driving him near the precipice of that hazardous-zone he’s only slanted towards once before when he’d first met the Omega.

Louis–God, that name does unimaginable things to his body and his mind and his _person_. Sends tremors down his spine, leave that bittersweet taste in his mouth, prods at the ache in his chest, and makes him _emotional_. In these isolated moments, the Alpha thinks they can learn to live right. God, he hopes he can learn, can turn back time inside his mind, confront his past and confront his deeply-rooted issues, and _leave it behind_ to focus on the future rather than always living in the present with past tendencies and behaviours.

When it’s decided that he can, breathing is significantly _painless_ , and he leaves his car to make it to Louis’s class by the time the bell rings to last class. When the Omega emerges, his assistant (the Beta from the beginning) trails him, but the boy doesn’t seem to notice as Harry sides him, asking carefully, “Lou?”

Seemingly startled by Harry being the first to initiate conversation, Louis hums in question, “Mm?” 

“Can…Can I hold your hand?” he asks almost timidly, so centered on Louis that the stares don’t matter, brushing their hands experimentally. At the contact, Louis seems to freeze, his steps faltering. Internally, the Alpha begins to panic, thinking that was the wrong move, but then the Omega blinks, swallows and smiles timidly as Harry sounded. This time there’s more light to his eyes as he whispers, “You know you don’t have to ask.”

Hesitant, as to not startle him, Harry intertwines their hands, disregarding how clammy Louis’s hand is, how loose his grip is, asking lightly as possible, “How was class?”

Louis smiles weakly, retreating into his mind again, and shrugging unenthusiastically. But the Alpha thinks this is enough as Louis squeezes his hand. For now, they’re alright–they will be alright. They have to be.

♥

Lost in his thoughts, the Alpha doesn’t hear the dismissal bell, only noticing when the class is vacant (discounting those few strays, staring at him curiously) that school’s ended. Cursing viscously, he shoves his stuff into his bag before trudging through the cleared out halls until he’s doors down from Louis’s class.

And what the Alpha finds…deteriorates any semblance of control he’d stitched collectively.

“Come on, princess,” an Alpha purrs, too fucking close to Louis, an Alpha that Harry recognises as Max, the Alpha that’s never physically portrayed Alpha, but with a snarky attitude that speaks in measures (whenever Harry thought of this idiot, he’d thought himself a fucking _saint_ ). Feet from him, Louis looks terrified; an expression Harry’s only witnessed a handful of times. A look that he won’t ever be able to replace. “Just a little touch. Nobody has to know. Styles doesn’t have know–it’ll be our little secret.” _Yeah fucking right._

Growling, the Alpha seizes the little prick by the collar and yanks him away from his Omega, grabbing the lapels of his blazer next to slam him into the lockers, getting up in his face, flashing his canines in warning. “What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?”

Sneering, the other Alpha hisses, “Nothing that concerns _you_.”

“He’s mine,” Harry snarls, heaving the little bastard forward to slam him into the lockers again, watching with satisfaction as his snide face scrunches in pain. “He is fucking _mine_. And you get close to him, you even _look_ at him again, and I am going to gouge your fucking eyes out and make you wish you didn’t. Understood?”

And it takes what’s left of his rational mind to not take it further, especially when the little prick bares his teeth. “Whatever. Have him, then.”

Releasing him, the Alpha goes to Louis, scrutinizing him as to make sure there’s not a single, precious strand of hair out of place. Face pale, the Omega’s expression has softened into barely-contained distress, those forget-me-nots glazed over like newly cut glass–newly cut glass with sharp edges that slash at his lungs. “You’re okay, kitten. Come, let’s get you home,” he breathes carefully, taking his hand and starting to lead him away.

Sensitive as his auditory senses are, it’s no surprise that he catches Max snarls under his breath, “Nobody really wants the little bitch anyway. Disabled and unworthy. A disgrace to the male Omega faction.”

Just like that, without permission, his legs halt, entire frame going rigid, muscles coiling. And he’s listening now, even as Louis tries to catch his attention, “No, Haz. No. Ignore him. Please, please,” and so on, but all Harry can hear is Max, “Can’t wait ‘til you fuck him, leave, and then he comes crying to me like the little slut he is. Reckon he’d let the whole Alpha circle get a piece.”

Losing concentration, Harry fades into his Alpha, and moves without thinking. Without reasoning. Without hesitance. He is nothing but roaring bonded-male instinct as he reels around, stalks up the other Alpha and slams his face into the locker. An animalistic snarl rips from his chest as the other Alpha crumbles, one hand flattening on the lockers in effort to keep him upright. Watching him struggle sends sadistic pleasure through him, causes him to shake with hostility as the frenzy blurs his vision crimson.

Purposefully, his fists make contact with the little pricks face, hard-core, no holds barred, watching the blood spread and splatter as Max attempts to fight him, but its useless–Harry’s the dominant Alpha and gets the pathetic excuse for an Alpha on the floor in seconds, receiving one little bitch punch to the face. It’s not even _felt_ it’s so fucking _weak_ –goes by unnoticed as the ringing in his ears rises, _disabled and unworthy, disabled and unworthy, a disgrace…_ The words are on _replay_ , powering him up like nothing else.

Midway through pummeling the shit out of Max, the Alpha realises what’s going on but can’t stop. Can’t stop without damaging the other to the point of no return. So much blood. Blood, blood, blood. Crimson on his hands, tinting his vision, coursing venomously through his veins. Satisfaction reels through him, cruel and brutal as his mouth pulls up into a smile, his Alpha snarling and clawing and dictating–free from the cage he’s confined him too.

 _Disabled. Unworthy. Disabled. Disgrace._ Subliminal thoughts that drive him over that hazardous edge–like he’s going fucking psychotic something in his mind cracks. Crazed bloodlust. Anticipation burns and flames through his insides as his arms ache from exertion, hair wild in his face, breathing rough and chopped with so much fucking _excitement_ at his next actions.

Wrapping a slippery hand around the other Alpha’s working throat, Harry squeezes, watching his bloodied face gape in shock and horror and pain at Harry’s obvious intention. _Fucking cry, beg me to spare your worthless life_. “FUCKING DO IT,” the Alpha roars in his face, clenching his fingers around Max’s throat. But before severe damage is done a light, light weight drapes over his back, “Stop! Stop! Stop! Harry, please, stop!” Louis’s voice shrills past the ringing in his ears. “Please, baby, stop! I’m scared! I don’t know what’s going on, I…I can’t see!” _Like Harry needs the fucking reminder._

Working on the more prevailing instinct, the need to protect his Omega, the Alpha’s grip loosens and his breath catches as he notices Max is still awake, terror etched into his beaten bloodied features. “Get…off of me, Louis,” Harry bites.

Listening, the Omega scrambles away, hand over his mouth where he stands feet away. Grabbing Max by the collar, Harry stands and drags him over to Louis’s feet, knocking him to the floor again–sickly amused at the bloodred streaks on the linoleum. “Apologise,” he demands, voice rough, breathing labored.

When the other Alpha only sobs– _fucking pathetic_ –the Alpha shouts viciously, “APOLOGISE!”

“N-No, Haz,” Louis gasps, shaking his head frantically. “No, stop, I don’t…I don’t want–,”

Crouching, Harry whispers, voice silky soft and deadly in Max’s ear, low enough that Louis can’t hear. “Apologise and mean it or _it’s your life_. I’m not above castration either. Your tongue will go next. I’ve done that before.”

Whimpering, Max starts desperately, “I’m sorry! I-I’m s-sorry, Louis! I’m sorry! God, I’m sorry! Please, stop him!” _Who’s the little bitch now? Begging an Omega to help you,_ his Alpha laughs, soaking up the cruelties.

Again, Louis shakes his head, eyes screwed shut, horrified (which Harry doesn’t understand, but also doesn’t care to).

“And?” he prompts softly.

“It’s n-not true! It’s not true! None of i-it! I was talking shit! I was angry! All lies!”

“Now admit what we both know, little Beta.”

Humiliated, the other Alpha falters. Reeling backwards, the Alpha kicks him in the side, growling in warning, “ _Now_!”

Shielding himself, the little prick cries, “I…I want you! The rest too!  Y-You’re w-w-worthy! So worthy! And I’m s-sorry…just…ge-get _him_ away from me, please!” The stench of his terror, stale and rancid, causes Harry’s head to ache–it’s then he decides he’s finished with this Beta.

“Now you can pass out, little Beta,” the Alpha allows, watching, entranced, as Max curls up and obeys his command, unconscious in seconds. At this point the remaining students and teachers are rushing to the scene, but wisely the lot of them keep their distance, realising not to approach an Alpha in this state. Still, none of them matter. They never have. But Louis does. And when Harry focuses on the little Omega, Louis is crying silently, tears streaking down his face, arms hugging his belly.

Cautiously, the Alpha closes the distance between them, brushing the fringe from his eyes, careful not to get that bastards filthy blood on his taintless skin. Desperate to make Louis understand, the frantic whisper escapes him unbidden, “I protect and defend those I care about. And I protect and defend those I love. Please, don’t cry, love, let me take care of you. I always will.”

But the Omega doesn’t seem to hear the words, the significance in them, scrubbing hastily at his tears, never wanting to be seen at his weakest.  Digging through his backpack, the Alpha dabs at those tears with a handkerchief, tucking sunglasses behind his ears, effectively concealing his bloodshot eyes. Shrugging out of his blooded blazer, the Alpha wipes his hands with it then drops the soiled thing to tuck Louis into his side, whispering sweet-nothings into the boy’s soft, fragrant hair.

As more people advance, Harry guides the trembling, crying boy to the lot, barking to an awaiting Dermot, disregarding his disapproving look, “I just bloodied some fuckers face.” _To put it loosely._ “You may want to check that out because I need to get him home.”

There’s one brief second that the older Beta looks shocked, then his expression darkens with the understanding that an Alpha like Harry only acts out with reason (or because he gets a better look at Louis). “Is Louis alright?”  _I fucking hope so._

Nodding curtly, the Alpha urges Louis into the car–from there the ride is quiet as Louis struggles to keep it together and so does Harry, but in another sense entirely. Killing the engine at the drive, Harry stares straight ahead, and asks calmly, “What happened on November 24th, Louis?”

Without answering, the Omega fumbles with his seatbelt, managing to unclasp the guard and scramble out of the vehicle, then before Harry guesses his intentions, rushing towards the house to hide from him. Chasing as any Alpha does their prey, Harry follows, and grips his arm, “Louis,” the Alpha repeats, “What happened on November 24th?”

“Everything!” the boy screams, yanking on his arm, trying to flee. “Let me go! I need…I need to…”

Though those words shove the daggers deep, Harry breathes urgently, “What’s everything?”

“Everything…” Louis whispers, more tears sliding down his flushed cheeks as he falls apart at the seams, choking on a little sob. “E-Everything bad. Everything bad happens on November 24th.”

“Oh, love,” the Alpha exhales, carefully removing the shades and tossing them to the ground before carrying him close, wrapping the frail, hurting boy in his body, shielding him from the world. “Oh, no, baby, no.”

This doesn’t help as Louis cries, mumbling sporadically, “So bad, so bad,” until the Alpha grabs him around the thighs and hoists him up, relieved when the Omega instinctively clings to him, face buries in his throat, arms around his neck, legs circled at his waist. “So bad, so bad, so _bad_ ,” Louis continues his chant, “’M so bad. So bad, Alpha…I swear I didn’t let him. I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t, Alpha, I didn’t let him.”

Fumbling for the keys in Louis’s backpack pocket, Harry retrieves the keys, then struggles with the locks until the door gives and he shoves the bloody thing open. Inside, it’s warm, replacing winter’s chill, and the Alpha is thankful as Louis is shivering despite the layers of coating over his uniform.  Upstairs, the Alpha tries to sit Louis on the mattress but the Omega isn’t having it, blindly clinging to him and shrilling, “Don’t! Don’t leave me, Alpha, please, I told him _no_! I said n-n-no!”

“Hush, love,” the Alpha breathes, settling to sit on the bed with Louis in his lap. “You’re so good. You did nothing wrong. Nothing. Alpha’s not angry.”

Louis sobs, then shuffles backwards so Harry has to splay a hand over his lower-back as those round, wild eyes flicker aimlessly until the Omega hiccups. “Alpha’s n-not ma-mad at m-m-me?”

“Of course not,” he whispers, loving in way he’s never heard before. “Of course not, my sweet boy. So good. Such a good Omega.”

“B-But…Alpha said I was bad,” Louis states feebly, eyes round and childish in his Omega-state. “A-And th-that he doesn’t…doesn’t want me because I w-was _bad_ , be-because I w-was a-a-a slut.”

Sickened that those words are returning, sickened with regret at the obvious mark they’ve left on Louis’ Omega. “No,” Harry rasps, “No, baby, no. Alpha is stupid. So fucking stupid. And didn’t mean that. No, no, Louis, believe that I didn’t mean that shit. Please, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it.”

Seeming to think this through, sound lapses, until, “I-I’m not bad…?” It’s doubtful. “S-So why doesn’t Alpha want me?”

 _Oh, God…so Omega, so childishly Omega_ –his Alpha reacts to this on elemental levels, wanting to get the boy on his knot to prove that he _craves him more than anything else_. But the animal is caged once more, and Harry’s never been so grateful to his self-discipline. “Alpha wants you,” he claims hoarsely. “Alpha always wants you.”

Louis chews on his bottom lip, then breathes softly, the anxiety in his voice threatening to undo him, “D-Does Alpha promise?”

“I promise. I swear. Cross my heart. Whatever it takes. I’ll sign with my blood. Whatever you want.”

Frowning, the Omega reaches forward to stroke his cheek, around where he’s going to bruise, whispering at his wince, “Is Alpha hurt? Because of me?”

“No,” he whispers back, gazing at him–madly, Harry thinks the boy’s striking, vulnerable glow is now the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Ethereal was the wrong word. There’s no word to describe this. No word worthy. “No, kitten, Alpha is fine.”

“Alpha did that for me?” Louis asks, curious and sweet and tiny and pure, undiluted Omega.

“Yes.” And Harry’s prepared to give the Omega whatever he needs, _anything_ , no limits to the things he’d do for this one little boy. “All for you.”

“Why? Didn’t ex-expect Alpha to do that. Wasn’t necessary.”

“Because, Louis,” the words that follow tumble from his tongue in an earnest breath as Harry leans forward, mouth brushing his ear, “Alpha protects the Omega he loves. And…And Alpha couldn’t live knowing the only Omega…the only Omega he’s ever loved so much is hurting because of someone like that. Couldn’t stand hearing anything less than admirable from some fucking piece of shits filthy mouth. Alpha would do anything, _anything_ to keep you happy and safe.” It’s the best Harry can manage–but he’s _trying_. God, the words are nearly impossible to say but he is trying and those words are as sincere as every one of his fond thoughts. And it’s so fucking worth it to watch Louis tug backwards, mouth parted as delicious rose colours high on his cheeks.

Before the Alpha can panic at his confession, Louis’s small, flighty hands forage in his curls and the Omega leans in to kiss his jaw, raising his face into their mouths are almost touching, so close. Anticipation sends heat through his veins as his eyes bore into guileless ones and Louis breathes, “Mean that?”

“You know I do,” the Alpha surrenders to the emotions, giving them rein to his mouth, warmth spreading at the happiness shining through the bond. “You’re perfect to and for me. You’re mine. You belong to me. No other Alpha can have. In any way or means. No other Alpha can love you in the way I do.”

Louis’s lashes flutter shut at the possessive tone, and that irresistible scent becomes thick as Harry’s blood.

“Tell me so I know you understand.”

“Yes,” Louis sighs in a soft, faraway voice. “I belong to you, Alpha.”

“And?”

“No other Alpha can have. Not in any way or by any means because no other Alpha can love me in the way my Alpha does.”

“Good boy.”

“Will Alpha kiss me now?” _I can’t not–I need to not think anymore and you’re the only way to shut the thoughts up. Just need to feel. Feel you, safe and happy and loved and alright in my arms. Against my body warm and sweet and mine_.

“Yes,” the Alpha breathes, sealing the insignificant distance so their mouths are flush against each other, desperation in the kiss. And Harry can taste the Omega’s sweet relief, his endless love, his residual anger and his lingering sadness as well as he can taste his own longing, tongue possessing his delicious mouth, tasting the emotions and everything else Louis’s mouth offers him. In his lap, the Omega melts, sighing and whining that sexy little sound, moving in his lap, and Harry knows what he wants, because _fuck_ he’s an inviting little tease that wants _more more more_ all the time. Hormonal. And his pheromones are everywhere, the fragrance sweet, and fresh, driving his Alpha, causing his knot to swell at the base of his cock.

“No,” the Alpha forces the word, because he knows Louis, knows his feelings and his subsequent motives. “No, Louis, _enough_. You do not need to do this to prove whatever it is you’re trying to prove.”

Ceasing his movements, the boy shakes his head frantically, those eyes swimming with tears. “No. No. Alpha did that for me. I need…I need to do something for Alpha, too.”

Those words viciously wrench his heartstrings, painful in unimaginable ways as Harry shuts his eyes and inhale a deep breath through his mouth. “No, Louis, that’s not how it works. This is not how it fucking works. I didn’t do that…I did not expect anything in return. Jesus, is that what you think of me? That I would…That I only do things to gain something sexual from you in return?” _That I’m no fucking better than that piece of shit Max._

 _I deserve this…I haven’t proven otherwise_. Grasping this, Harry’s eyes sting, causing him to blink rapidly to alleviate the physical pain. Just like that the Omega crumples, shaking and sobbing, “No! No, that’s…I-I’m s-s-sorry! I d-don’t mean it…li…like _that_! I-I…” the sobs tremor through him as Louis hides his face in Harry’s shirt. “Please, believe me…”

Unable to do anything less, the Alpha holds him close, silently allowing him to cry and make little, scared noises as Harry struggles to find some response. To find words. “I w-want to s-show you h-how _happy_ you make me. H-How much I…I wanted to m-make this…this _day_ better…It’s ne-never been good t-to me like now…and I didn’t want to r-ruin another good thing.”

“What happened today, Louis? Please, tell me…I need to know,” his voice is barely a breath because he knows what’s coming to him is going to break him down inside.

“ _Everything! Everything bad!_ I-I lost my vision. I couldn’t s-s-see and Dad…was so _angry_! And he didn’t love me anymore because I’m a disgrace. Disgusting. Unworthy. An-And that t-the ne-next year was even worse! L-Liam had to–to stop him, stop him f-from beating me w-worse! But I deserved it, Haz! I deserved it! He knew that. A-And th-the cops…and Mum w-was _hurt_ for trying to s-s-stop him! And then he…he _left_! He left because of _me_! I r-ruined everything. T-There was always a f-f-fight with Mum after that! Something b-bad always happened. A-And n-nobody wants me! Nobody can love me.” And he’s crying so viciously the words are indistinct and nearly incoherent, emotional knives of anger and hurt and desperate as he’s trapped in the memories of brutalization he’s somehow convinced himself he _deserved_.  The world has not been kind to his Omega. And it’s a world Harry wants to burn to ash.

“Everything bad happens,” Louis’s voice is a shattered breath, the anger washing away with that single, pained outburst. “Everything bad happened…except for today.”

Seeking something the Alpha goes over what the boy’s said, hearing the words over and over and _over_ until his rage burns him from the inside out, his Alpha blazing as Harry struggles not to lose it again. But he is, he’s losing it quick. Soundless rage taking over–all-encompassing, a crushing, branding deadweight. Obliviously, the Omega reiterates, “Except today. Except for today.”

Frozen on the outside, but burning from within, the Alpha can’t speak.

“H-Haz?” a tiny, shaken whisper. “I…Please…say something.”

But he can’t–can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t stop the fire. This is why. This is why Louis is the way he is. Why he’s so determined to keep his secrets to himself, and to be _normal_. So hurt. So fragile. Broken inside. Abruptly, the Alpha feels like crying. Like crying in ways he’s never cried, mourning and weeping for his broken boy. Because he’s _weak_. Louis makes him weak, and Christ, he can’t _handle this._ He doesn’t want those words in his head. Doesn’t want those images. Doesn’t want Louis to bear that.

Clutching his small, delicate frame to his chest, Harry forces his eyes shut, forces himself to breathe in that scent, to remember that Louis, his strong willful boy is still here, yet still _there_. With him, but not with him all the same. “Baby,” his voice breaks, and he feels weaker than Louis could ever be. “Baby, baby, baby.”

Louis continues to sob, but starts pressing wet kisses to his throat, fingers fumbling with the first button to his button-up, which is sainted with blood. When he’s gotten one undone, the Alpha’s hands stop his, holding him as he lays them on the mattress, bringing the Omega impossibly closer. “Baby,” he croaks again, into his hair. “No more bad, okay? No more. You’re so perfect–so worthy and lovely and desirable. And wanted. So wanted. By everyone. Everyone wants something from you. And you’re _loved_. You. Are. Loved. By your Mum, by your sisters, and Liam and Niall and Zayn and Josh, and you are especially loved by _me_. You deserved none of that. You deserved _none_. You deserved, and still deserve happiness and love and kisses and sweets and anything you _want_. And that fucker, that piece of fucking shit deserves nothing. He doesn’t deserve you. And he _never fucking did_.” _And I am going to hunt him down and when I find him he’s going to wish he’d been the Father you deserved, wish he’d loved you so much as I always will._

When the Omega speaks again, it’s no longer his Omega talking, it’s Louis, _his_ Louis _._  “’S not true, Haz. ‘S not true. You’re saying that to make me feel better. My Omega may believe that but I don’t. I don’t. I’m not weak and I am _not_ stupid. Nobody could love someone like me. Especially not someone like you. I deserved everything I received. And everything I did not. I didn’t deserve my Dad–that’s why he acted like he did.” And now the boy laughs mirthlessly, and the sound sends ice through Harry’s veins. “I thought you’d realise that, too. He _cared about me_. And he was trying to prepare me for the future. Because an Omega like me isn’t going to have it easy. Society doesn’t accept deficient Omegas. Alphas don’t either. You shouldn’t. So…just _leave_ now. Leave now before we take this too far and–,”

These words scrape his insides raw. “You don’t mean that.”

“You know I do.” _God_ , it’s there, in his resigned voice. But he can’t…he can’t…

“No. If you really think any of that, tell me to go,” he demands.

Louis doesn’t miss a beat–running razor-sharp blades down the raw. “Go.”

Faltering, the Alpha wills the Omega not to do this–not to reject him when he’s bared himself raw. When he’s bared his soul and his heart, when he’s laid them out right here, given this boy _everything he’s clutched so fucking close for so fucking long._   “Tell me…Tell me you don't love me,” he breathes raggedly.

Now though…the Omega does waver, and Harry cups his face in both hands, murmuring slowly, “Open your eyes. Let me see it there too. Tell me you want me to leave you and you don’t want me around anymore and that you don’t love me the same.” _Tell me I didn’t lay it all out to be trampled on and destroyed because I will never…I will never do it again. If this is what happens when you give too much…I will never give the left-over pieces over again. Never again…Never again…_

In seconds Louis’s features shut him out, but those eyes are open, stormy and sparking with emotion Harry can’t understand. Emotions he’s terrified to understand. “I want you to leave,” the boy says hollowly, eyes mirroring the words. “I don’t want you around me anymore. Go. Just…go.”

And he doesn’t notice the Omega doesn’t repeat the last part, instead Harry puts his head in his hands, struggling against his Alpha’s rage, the endless pain that hurts worse when swallowing glass-shards ever fucking could. Until the animal is tightly leashed and there’s nothing but an endless numb replacing the pain. Sitting up, the Alpha clears his throat, and blinks countless time because that feeling is back in his eyes, stinging. When he glances over at Louis, the boy is staring blankly, but the tenderness and sorrow he’s feeling makes Harry violent.

 _Fucking great–now he’s pitying me because I’m fucking sloppy and shit._ And if Harry didn’t love him as much as he does, he would have hated him in this moment.

Standing, the Alpha shoots a text at Jay, hoping vaguely that she gets it before he leaves. And hoping she doesn’t text back so he doesn’t have to explain that her son’s ruined him. “You’re still worthy. And you still deserve all those things. Even if I can’t give them to you…or you don’t want them from me. And there isn’t one person that doesn’t know it.”

The biting silence stretches, until Harry shrugs, chillingly defeated. “Goodbye, Lou...”

As he walks out of the door, the Alpha doesn’t allow himself a glance backwards, chest feeling vacant, like his hearts no longer there at all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm so sorry :'(  
>  Forgive me?  
> I...I... -sobs-  
> Thoughts? (I'm so nervous...)  
> Much love,  
> .xx


	19. Part Nineteen;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. So, more emotional. I know I've been laying it on quite hard these couple chapters, but I promise next chapter is going to be much lighter. Bear with me.  
> Again, endless love to you guys. Thank you for the massive amounts of support and motivation:) It really helps.  
> & thanks again to my lovely Beta, [bestBetaeva!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com)  
> Honestly, can't stress it enough how much she helps me and this story. Deserves much praise as well.  
> Well...can't wait to hear how it goes  
> .xx

As he walks out of the door, the Alpha doesn’t allow himself a glance backwards, chest feeling vacant, like his hearts no longer there at all.

Downstairs, as soon as he reaches the landing (he wasn’t dragging his weight, and he certainly wasn’t fucking waiting for Louis to take it back…Fuck,  _no, he wasn’t…_ ) the entrance opens and Jay comes rushing inside, Dermot on her heels. The instant the female Omega sees his face those painfully  _identical_ eyes go wide. Clearly he looks as God-fucking-awful as he feels…

“He’s upstairs,” he provides the information flatly–vaguely, he thinks his voice sounds a bit like the first time he’d yielded to his Fathers control.  Flat. Emotionless. Lifeless even.

“What…I…What happened, H? Are you okay?”  _Yes. No. Doesn’t matter. Never has. Probably never will._

Keeping his mouth shut, the Alpha nods, and doesn’t linger. At this point it’s all Harry can do to get himself out the front door without splitting wide-open and howling like a fucking baby.

As he walks away from the house, down the six steps, to the drive, the weather mirrors how he’s feeling inside. Bitter, cold,  _worn._ And he has no idea what to do or where to go…Probably to the manor. To his room–where he won’t emerge for another few years, maybe he’ll get high enough that he never comes down again. Right now that sounds nice. Too nice. Unhealthily nice–not that it matters overly much. Then again…there’s always leaving the country. Except the idea of creating more distance causes ice to grip his chest, and Harry  _despises_ that he’s so damned  _pathetic_ for trying to be close to Louis when the boy obviously doesn’t want to be  _anywhere_ near him.

 _So much for being meant. So much for fucking love. Love doesn’t exist._ Just like that the endless rage returns. Welcomed. Better than  _this_ empty, raw sensation…

Dimly, the Alpha hears a pounding noise coming from inside the house. Some kind of rhythmic beat.

As the sound grows in strength, becoming louder, more forceful, Harry glances behind him. All at once the entrance flies open and Louis shoots out of the house, not bothering with the six steps, pausing at the landing, shaking his head, blind eyes frantic, almost searching.

“Lou. What are you doing? It’s–?”  _Get inside, you’ll catch a cold._ Even now he’s fucking  _worrying._ Before the Alpha can finish the boy tears across the frost-laden lawn and throws himself at Harry, grabbing onto his neck with both arms. Holds so tight–so desperately. And he’s sobbing. Bawling. Crying so vehemently his entire body is shaking with it again.

Without asking questions, the Alpha wraps himself around the boy, breathing in his scent, trying not to drown in the betrayal and the rage and the hurt and–, “Don’t leave me,” Louis cries between frantic, ragged breaths. “Haz…don’t leave me. I didn’t…m-m-mean it. I didn’t mean it. I love you…I love you…”  _I love you…I love you…_

Those simple, desperate words ricochet around in his head until Harry is squeezing his eyes shut and clutching Louis with the remaining strength he possess. And he  _clings_ to his small, delicate body so tight…So tight he might never let go.

 

♥

            Even when the weather worsens, the Alpha doesn’t let go. Even when Jay hovers in the doorway, clutching what must be Louis’s coat to her chest, the Alpha doesn’t let go. Even when Dermot urges them quietly to go inside, the Alpha doesn’t let go.

Ignoring the weather, ignoring Jay, ignoring Dermot, the Alpha holds his ground, clings to the only boy he wants to call  _his._

Seconds, minutes, hours might pass before Harry realises the Omega’s shivering against him, teeth chattering between his steadily streaming tears. Swallowing, the Alpha lifts his face from Louis’s throat, forcing his eyes open as to walk them up the drive and back into the house, saturated with warmth that causes the Omega to tremor worse. Unable to grasp what’s going on around him, his limbs move without permission, towards the stairway, brushing passed Jay wordlessly.

But by the time they’re upstairs Harry’s grabbed Louis around both thighs, and the Alpha is reclaiming what’s  _his,_ reclaiming Louis’s mouth. The sharp, sweet contact is urgent as Harry’s tongue seeks to memorise the taste, the feel, the sensation, savoring with every stroke and thrust of his tongue. And Louis’s hands clutch his shoulders, well-cared-for nails biting through his dampened shirt, making the animal flare possessively in his veins. It’s too much–he can’t fucking  _breathe_ around the resentment and the need and that  _pathetic emotion they call love._

But he doesn’t care. Right now, he doesn’t care that Jay might still be trailing them. And he doesn’t care that he’s  _screwed–_ that he’s been played and he’s  _still_ being played. And he certainly doesn’t give any fucks that this one little boy deliberately tore him down  _word by word, breath by breath._  All the Alpha cares to recognise is that this same little boy is clinging to him, petal-soft lips wet and saline with tears.

“Why did you do that to me?” the Alpha demands against his mouth, shoving the bedroom door out of their way, then kicking it shut again to pin Louis’s small, fragile frame to the unwavering structure. Angling his face in one hand, determined to  _own_  him in this moment, Harry mouths at Louis’s throat, dragging with his teeth, teasing with his tongue, leaving bruising marks on his silky skin until growling again, “ _Why, Louis?_ ”

“Because!” the Omega shrills, voice thin. “Be-Because…I…I love you.”

 _Yeah fuckin’ right,_ the Alpha snarls inwardly, wondering what sort of idiot the boy takes him for. Like he’d make the same mistake twice, make the mistake of believing that again. “You don’t love me,” Harry snarls instead, unwilling to let him know how those dagger-like words affect him. Flashing his canines in warning, one arm circles his slim waist as to hold him up while the other slams into the wall beside his head. But the action doesn’t  _help,_ there’s too much rage pent up, waiting…threatening… Even as Louis flinches, the Omega is steady, unaffected.

And that fucking stinging starts up in his eyes, blurring them until Harry’s blinking rapidly, reining the emotions in. Pacing his breaths so they aren’t close to hyperventilating anymore, he continues flatly, “Give me a better fucking excuse. Because I don’t believe that shit for one second. Complete fucking  _lie._ Try another.”

Something flashes in Louis’s eyes, the colour becoming electric. “Don’t you  _dare,_ ” the boy hisses, seething, “Don’t you dare tell me I don’t love you after I did that…to…to…Don’t. Just  _don’t._ ”

Hitching him, the Alpha leans in so they’re nose-to-nose, breathing the same, tense, charged air. “You. Don’t. Fucking. Love. Me.”

“You know what? I could  _hate_ you right now,” Louis snaps back. Fuck do those words  _sting…_ but what’s one more stab-wound? Not nearly lethal enough.

“And I’d believe that over you loving  _anyone,_ sweetheart.” And the hurt is visible on Louis’s features as more tears form in those depthless eyes. But  _no–_ he refuses to take them back. Unwavering, the Alpha repeats, “Answer me. Why did you do it?”

Turning his face, the Omega breathes again, “Because I love you.”

Rage skyrockets through him as Harry goes to snap  _you don’t fucking do that to someone you love,_ but the boy continues unevenly, “I never wanted to hurt you…I don’t want to hurt you…And this…LouisandHarry…it’s going to hurt. That’s what I never wanted.”

Swallowing around the emotions, Harry whispers faintly, “Well to fucking late for that…”

“I know,” Louis snivels, voice breaking. “I know and I’m s-so sorry…” So is Harry–sorry to have spoken his feelings aloud, sorry to have given them in the first place.

“Don’t…Don’t pull that shit again, Louis,” the Alpha says as the rage fades. And he doesn’t know what’s slamming into him now, but something akin to ice is coursing through his veins, solidifying his blood. “Don’t. Don’t because I  _can’t_  keep that going. We aren’t some…some broken record. I am in this no matter what. I’m here, going nowhere without you because you’re already everything I want. I am serious about this. I have every intention of boding you and keeping you forever. I’d take the pleasure, the pain, and whatever else comes with the bond. So don’t because…Just  _don’t._ I’m serious about this,  _us_. I’ve been about it. Are you?”

“I…No…You don’t mean that…”

“God fucking damn it!” the shout escapes his throat fiercely as his hand grips Louis’s jaw again, holding his face to the right so his throat is revealed, giving Harry access to the sensitive skin made to bear his bonding mark.  As his gaze fixes on the smooth, untouched skin, the Alpha can imagine sinking his canines there. Imagines the sucking. The swallowing. The taste. The  _sensation_ that would follow. And there would be the communion of Louis doing the same to him–unnecessary but  _fuck_ Harry would give this boy  _everything_ and  _anything._ No limits. “I mean it. I will do it right now.”

“You… _can’t._ I don’t want it and–,”

Closing his teeth lightly around the to-be-mark, the Alpha growls low in his throat, listening to Louis’s answering whimper. Canines elongated, primed to bite, Harry separates the contact to speak, “Don’t test me right now. Don’t mouth me either. I am not playing games, kitten. This is not the game I want to play.”

Against him, the Omega’s body softens as he retorts breathlessly, “Didn’t know this was a game to you,  _Beta._ ”

The boy is deliberately goading him–provoking him. With the realisation, the Alpha decides he’s  _not_ going to give him what he wants, taking his hand back to splay his fingers across the span of his soft belly, lower to his hips, over his thigh, clutching the flesh over his chinos as his mouth brushes his ear. “You do know. Because you’re playing it. Playing me.”

“I’m not playing you!” the Omega cries, the snivels, nuzzling his throat, pleading now, “Please…Please, stop. I’m not playing with you.”

“Are you having fun, kitten?” the Alpha snarls, deliberately distancing them, refusing to give into him. “Like riling me up, don’t you?”

“N-No,” Louis hisses, kittenish rage returning. “You’re out of your damned mind.”

“Fucking crazy,” he agrees, grinning lopsidedly. “You make me this way. I can’t tell you what it is about you that does this to me, but I can tell you what we both know. You’re screwing with my emotions.”

“What emotions?” Louis bites back. “You aren’t even  _capable_ remember?”

At this, the Alpha tenses, the smile disappearing in seconds. “Don’t fucking go there, Louis.”  _As much as I fucking hate it, I love you, so much I can barely breathe, and it suffocates me._

“Oh, that’s right! You’re all shallow emotion. Nothing deeply felt. That’s why you left so easily, yeah? It’s not like the damage would have been severe. You probably didn’t even  _care._ ”

Pulling a deep breath through clenched teeth, the Alpha releases the boy despite his body’s protests, ignoring his Alpha’s insistent clawing at his chest. “You know what? I’m leaving.” And he’s prepared to walk out with his pride, walk out to regret it for the rest of his shit life, but unable to care in this particular moment because Louis doesn’t seem to either. And he’s not going to continue this, he’s not going to  _give_ and _give_ and _give_ until there’s nothing left–he’s going to save the scant remains while he can.

“Wait…” Louis breathes, seemingly terrified, grabbing onto his arm. “Nonono! No…Haz, please, stop it!”

“Louis, let me go,” Harry says numbly, tugging his arm away, reaching the door as Louis begins to screech at the top of his lungs,“Don’t! Don’t leave me! I’m…I’m  _sorry_!” Vaguely, the Alpha wonders why the boy feels the need to scream, like Harry doesn’t hear him loud and clear even in a whisper.  _And fuck does he listen._

“Sorry?” the Alpha growls, stalking up to where Louis stands, his hands are clutching his head. Standing here, Harry’s hands are balled into tight fists, the blood roaring in his ears. They shouldn’t be anywhere near each other right now. They should go their separate ways because…this… _this_ isn’t healthy, they  _aren’t_ working, they’re becoming  _toxic_ to each other. Dependent– _necessary to live right._ And it’s the first time he’s felt like this, like they  _shouldn’t_ be together. But Louis is mercurial as they come, and his temper is as uncontrollable as Harry’s always has been. And yet the Alpha wouldn’t have it any other way… _God fucking damn me._  “Yeah fuckin’ right.”

“I didn’t mean it!” his voice shakes, and he’s beautiful even now in tears with a runny nose and tired, hurting eyes. “I didn’t mean  _any of it._ Not what I said earlier and not what I said minutes ago. I d-d-don’t want you to go. Please, don’t go. I never want you to leave me. Never. I can’t…I don’t know h-how to l-l-live wi-without anymore. You’re the only person that makes me fe-feel whole…”

_Damn it, baby. You know how to play me like a fool._

“Then  _why?_ ” Harry’s voice falters as he drops to his knees, and he feels so  _weak_ when his arms wrap around Louis’s slim waist, resting his head against the soft of his belly. “Why would you give that up?”

“B-B-Because,” Louis hiccups, delicate fingers foraging in his wayward hair, comforting and gentle in ways only Louis is with him. “I love you.”

“Please,” his voice breaks as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Stop saying that.”

“I can’t. I can’t because it’s  _true,_ Haz. I only wanted to m-make it easy on us. I love you more than I love  _me._ And I…I want what’s best for  _you._ You have so much potential, Harry…You’re  _brilliant._ And you could do so much for the Council. So much…And…And I love you too much to take that from you.”  _All this…because of the fucking Council?_

 _Anger_. Never-ending anger. There isn’t any more  _heated_ Harry can be. But the red-hot flashes are lessened by something else…Sadness. A sadness he’s never known, and never wants to meet again. “I have no potential without you…There’s no Harry without Louis anymore,” and he _hates_ how these words  _scare_ him, the fear crawling up his throat with every passing word, anticipating Louis will crush the last bits and pieces he’s giving over. “I don’t know how to live without you anymore, Lou…I don’t. I can’t. It’s like…you’re all I think of anymore. I’m addicted to this–to  _you._ You’re the only one who does this to me. And when I don’t have you, I don’t have  _anything._ Because you’re everything to me. You wouldn’t be taking anything from me that I wouldn’t be willing to give up. Nothing compares. Nothing compares to losing you. I would leave the Council in a heartbeat if you made me choose.”

“No, Haz…No…I’d…I’d never make you choose.”

“Then  _stop_ thinking about me that way, Lou.  _Stop._ What happens between me and the Council has no affect on LouisandHarry. And if the Council can’t see that you’re worthy of any Alpha, and it’s the Alphas that aren’t  _worthy of you,_ then it’s no Council I  _ever_ want to be a part of.”

“Why are you doing this?” Louis snivels softly, then lowers to his knees, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Why are you making me feel like I’m more important than…than your entire  _life_?”

“Because, unhealthy as it is, you are, Lou. I don’t know how else to get this through to you. Just…stop. Stop being so bloody stubborn and _listen to me._ Trust me. I’m asking you one last time, Louis, are you serious about this? Do you want this?”

There’s a little, desperate noise before the Omega mumbles, “Haz, you can’t–,”

“Enough. Shut up with the fucking  _can’t_ and answer the questions, Louis, because I am not going to ask again. Answer or I’m going to take that as a no and I’m leaving because I’m not staying just to watch us fall apart all over again.”

And the beat of silence that passes causes something icy and sharp to drag over his lungs… _Panic._ But then, “I’m so serious about this,” Louis breathes, scrambling into his lap, scattering sweet, pleading kisses over his face, continuing, “I’m serious. Serious about you. I want this.”

“That’s all I needed,” the Alpha breathes into his hair, clutching him to his chest as the weight over his shoulders eases. But he’s not finished. “This isn’t going to continue. I don’t care what I have to do to get you to a better mindset but we’re going to do it because I am going to lose my mind the next time I hear one more self-demeaning word come from your mouth. Because you’re talking about the heart and the soul and the mind and body I adore. Each I would never change. That’s unacceptable. We clear?”

“You talk some–,” before he can finish, the Alpha asks again, serious and quiet, “Are we clear?”

“Help me,” Louis whispers, griping his curls in his both hands, nosing at his jaw, “Help me be better.”

“I can’t unless you  _let me,_ ” Harry reminds softly, intertwining their fingers. “Let me.”

“’M trying…But I don’t know how,” the sad, soft note to his voice catches the Alpha off guard.

“Give me time,” the Alpha tells him fiercely, “One step at a time. Give me time to figure that out… Can you do that for me?”

Louis shivers, dainty fingers curling over his cheek. “Do we have time?”

“Loads,” Harry promises, fighting the shiver threatening to come over him when Louis squeezes his palm, mouth following the fingers tracing his features. “Come with me.” And he stands, bringing the boy with him as Louis snivels, wiping his face with his sleeve. “And g-g-o where?”

“On a walk,” the Alpha supplies casually, “to the park.”  _Anywhere but this room…because all I can hear is anger and hurt and everything that shouldn’t be heard._

“’Kay,” the Omega whispers, squeezing his hand again before letting Harry show him to ground level. There, Jay paces, and the worry is written on her features, tight and exhausted. When she catches sight of Louis the blood drains from her face and Harry sees how she visibly holds herself back, fighting the need to sooth him. At this point, the Alpha won’t offer the boy over to her because it’s not going to help. Not this time. So when her shoulders slump in surrender, Harry leads Louis forward, but the boy pauses, asking quietly, knowingly, “Mum?”

Looking surprised, but relieved to hear Louis isn’t crying or screaming, she asks, “Yeah, babe?”

“I love you.”

Her expression shifts into bewilderment, her eyes pinpointing Harry in question as she murmurs slowly, “I love you too, Lou. Is this some kind of…goodbye?”

Louis laughs secondly, then shakes his head. “Nah, Mum. I’ll be back. Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“I know that, baby,” she assures him, then, “Not too late, yeah?”

“’Course.”

Deeming the conversation finished, the Alpha goes to lead Louis to the exit, but catches Jay’s whisper, “Thank you, H.” It’s so quiet Harry doesn’t think Louis’s ear pick up on it, but then again his senses are quite heightened…Without commenting, the Alpha tells her, “I’ll have him back before nightfall, Jay.”

Outside the cold nips at their fingertips, but Harry takes them to his car, pulling out a jeaned jacket from the backseat and helping Louis pull the thick material over his frame.

“Better?” he asks to be sure.

Smiling shyly, Louis nods, huddling in the too-large jacket until Harry grabs his hand again and starts them down the sidewalk. As they walk, the light weight between them settles between each of Harry’s ribs, and it’s difficult to breathe, but the drag of each breath is delicious, comforting even. Their pace remains slow, dragging through the snow, leaving footprints. Beside him, the Omega’s head is bowed, but a small, sad smile plays at the corners of his tempting mouth. Though the Alpha wants him to tell, he won’t ask, but this works out because once they’ve neared the park, Louis breathes, “Haz.”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t…Earlier, you didn’t say you loved me…” the Omega says, and then swallows, “You said you adored me. Does that…

What does that mean?”  _It means nothing. I still love you like I’ve never loved anyone before._

Unable to say this, the Alpha thinks through another response, but settles on, “I can’t say the words again.”

“Does…” Louis breathes shakily, that  _need-you_  look in that blind gaze, “Does that mean the feelings have changed?”

Bringing them to a standstill, Harry runs his mouth over his knuckles, speaking quietly. “It took me awhile to find the words, Lou. I wasn’t talkin’ shit when I said I’d never experienced emotion like…this. It’s only for you. I know…I know I love Zayn. I always have. I always will. But it’s not the same. The feelings are different for you. And they’re still here. But they’re new to me. I’m still…learning to figure them out. But I don’t know anything about emotions or love, Lou. I really fuckin’ don’t.”

When the boy raises his face tears have formed in his eyes and his bottom lip is wobbling. “I love you. I know I love you. And I know…I know I hurt you. And…I…I won’t ever do that again.”

Refusing to believe that, the Alpha shrugs, bringing the boy in, simply holding him softly. “We’re going to be alright. We’ll be alright.”

“I’m so sorry,” Louis whispers, breath warm against his throat. “It’s not alright…I hurt you and that’s not alright. I feel like I ruined it…And I’m so sorry…”

“I’m fine,” Harry convinces–right now it’s not a lie, but he knows that when he’s alone the thoughts will resurface, so will every screwed up emotion, but at least it’s only when he’s alone. When that time comes, Harry will do what he does best–suppress the emotions and thoughts with silent, obstinate reminders that  _“it doesn’t matter”_ and  _“I don’t care”_ until it’s believable. Denial is his way of life. And it works for him. “You don’t need to worry about me, Lou. I can handle myself. No more apologies, yeah? You’re already forgiven.”

“But I need to, Haz,” in the cold, Louis’s voice manages to sound warm. “Because I don’t think anyone has ever apologised for hurting you before. I know your Dad didn’t. And I know your Mum didn’t…And I know the Council hasn’t…And someone…someone needs to apologise for hurting you. But you don’t ever let anyone else realise they’ve done so…You’re so believable when you say you’re fine…Even when you’re not.”

At those words, the Alpha swallows around the lump in his throat, then mutters, “I can’t let anyone have that sort of power over me…”

“But you let me have it. Why?”  _I wish I didn’t…_

“Because…”  _I love you, and fuck I can’t help it though I wish I could._ “Because I trust you.”

“Even now?”

“Even now…” he admits, even as the words send phantom needles of pain through his lungs.

“I don’t deserve it…”

“And I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” Louis mumbles, closing the space so they’re deliciously close. And the boy is warm, radiating better than any heater could. “Shut up and…for once, let’s not think about anything but each other.”

“Easy,” the Alpha says lightly. “You’re all I think about anyway.”

“Yeah?” Louis asks, raising his face, plush bottom-lip between his canines. True to his low attention span, the Alpha’s eyes focus on his pretty, swollen mouth, watching the words form there, “What about me?”

Enamored, the Alpha murmurs, curling his hand around the boy’s face, brushing his fringe from his eyes. “Everything. How I hate to see you cry.  How I wish there was only happy tears. How I always want to hold your hand. How I want to protect you. How you make me strong. And that I’m so bloody stupid that I’ll always be here, even if you decided to leave or decide I’m not who you’re lookin’ for in an Alpha. How someone so small manages to be so bloody stronger. Stronger than I could ever be. How I want to hold you and keep you. And how I  _know with everything I’ve got_ that this isn’t some phase, and I’m never going to get over you.”

Louis’s mouth parts, the breath seen in the air between them the boy shakes his head, mumbling, “You sure do think a lot.”

Smiling lopsidedly, the Alpha shrugs, a bit thrown when Louis stretches on his tiptoes. “You’re the only one that makes me cry happy tears. I always want you to hold my hand. I want to be protected, but sometimes I don’t need. You’re not stupid. I love you. I won’t leave and I won’t _ever_ want anyone else. You’re the only Alpha I ever didn’t know I was looking for. I’m not strong, H. If anything  _you_ make me strong. And I want more than anything to play in the snow and have you push me on then swings and then take me home and let  _me comfort you.”_

“I don’t need to be comforted…”

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Louis breathes, sincere and trustworthy and everything Harry never thought to want, let alone need.

“Alright,” the Alpha breathes, squeezing his eyes shut again before repeating, more sure this time, “Alright.”

Taking his hand, Louis starts forward, closer to the park until Harry steers him towards the swings, where he stops, holding it steady as Louis perches, then smiles breezily at him, holding the chains. “Underdog, please.”

A while passes this way, with Harry swinging him in silence. Whenever the swing carries him high, Louis tilts backwards, face to the sky. And his mouth softened into a pretty smile, nose pink from the chill, face pale from the weather, feathery hair in a windblown mess.  _Gorgeous._ Like this, the Alpha watches his reversal, an honest thing when there’s no one there to watch but Harry–a beauty he’s never known; never thought to exist.

Around them the wind is brisk and rough but inside Harry’s burning ten degrees too hot, musing over this experience, wondering if these are the motions of ordinary love or if they’re special as soulmates are said to be…Yet it doesn’t really matter because Louis giggles, yanking on the chains, “Okay. Okay, I’m done, stop.”

Halting the chains, bringing the swing to an abrupt stop, the Alpha helps Louis hop down, watching as the Omega faces him. A ripple of excitement exudes from the indiscernible bond as Louis asks, timid and hesitant, “Wanna play?”

Silent, Harry inhales that scent–potently accentuated by the brisk winds–deep into his lungs. “Not here. Come.”

Griping his dainty hands, the Alpha guides them to the open field used for sports, where the ground of blanketed snow stretches for miles. There, Harry circles him, steps careful and precise. The shift in instinct flares between them, sending magnetic impulses through his bloodstream as the predator comes alive, muscles tense, vision sharpening perceptibly. “You want to leave me. And I can’t let you go,” his voice is husky, deceptively soft.

Without his noticing, Louis’s softened visibly, those cobalt eyes downcast, delicate fingers toying with the too-long sleeves of Harry’s jacket. Childlike. Omega.  _Mine._

In a nanosecond his whole demeanor changes as Harry growls low in his throat, circling again before ordering, “Answer me.”

A frisson of anticipation runs through the current as Louis breathes, “Why not?”

“I’ve told you,” he purrs, “There’s something about you. I can’t leave you alone. Like a moth to a flame.”

Delicious rose colours Louis’s cheek as the Omega raises his face, tongue sweeping across his bottom-lip hastily. “You’re only going to get burnt.”

Smirking, the Alpha looks Louis’s soft, tiny frame up and down from all angles. “No pain, no gain, little one.”

“You should let me go…” the boy trails, provoking him.

“Hmm. Sounds like you want to go. Do you want to go, Louis?” he asks curiously, pausing to watch the boy’s delicate features, “No. No, I love you, Alpha. But I want to please you. And make you happy…in the long run that might mean my leaving.”

“I don’t think so,” he disagrees, pausing again. “I think, little one, that you’re only saying that to make me leave again.”

In response, Louis makes a little, shocked noise, then blurts, surprising him, “Maybe.”

Deciding not to believe this the Alpha runs his tongue along his elongated canines, growling softly, “Yeah? I don’t put it beyond you.”

“Alpha wants to punish me now,” his voice is small, feeble.

“Yes. And I will,” Harry answers assertively.

“You think so, Alpha?” Louis challenges.  _So sexy…Such a turn on._ In his trousers, his cock strains at his zipper, outlined perfectly, bulging, _wanting._

“Are you goin’ to stop me?”  _I want to chase you down. I want to work for it._

“You’re going to have to catch me first.”

Grinning wickedly, the Alpha slows his pace around, then, when he’s lined perfectly behind him, towering, Harry softly grips Louis’s jaw. Leaning forward, mouth brushing the boy’s ear, Harry asks quietly, “Am I?”

Inches apart, Louis shivers, but Harry doesn’t think it’s from the cold, not with the charged atmosphere between them. And when the Alpha turns his face, their gazes bore–Harry’s reflected in the blind, wide eyes, ablaze with wild anticipation that emanates from him.

“I’m…quite…fast…y’know,” he’s trying for nonchalance. It’s not working.

Closing the distance, Harry dips low, and Louis’s lips are soft as suede against his, lingering, clinging. Only seconds pass before Harry withdraws so he’s looming, palms burning to touch, but he’s withholding intentionally, craving the chase.

“So am I.”

Movements hasty, the Omega turns, then backs away, those eyes lit with emotion. Mirroring his steps, Harry stalks him.

“Are you going to come quietly?” he asks softly, persuasively when Louis takes another step backwards. “Or am I going to have to come and get you?”

“That’s only if you can catch me, Alpha. And right now I have no intention of letting you catch me.” Without giving him the chance to respond, the Omega turns on his heels and bolts. It’s incredible to watch him go, quick and small like a bullet released from its chamber, but this bullet’s missing the target. And that’s going to hurt someone.

Though the Alpha decides to give him a minute head-start, it’s twenty seconds in that Harry realises he’s not slowing down, and seems to have no plans to. Without permission, he’s racing after him, wishing he’d have pulled his hair back as it’s in his face, but it hardly matters, his eyes are locked on his prey.

And he’s closing in when Louis wheels around and starts in the direction they’d started, rushing past him, not seeming to think he was so close. But the Alpha also doesn’t expect the change in direction and hardly has the change to grab him before he’s gracefully off again. Lunging for him, the Alpha grins at his shriek as he tries to speed up again, barely managing to escape.

Exertion burns in his lungs, anticipation burns in his blood, and his heart races, adrenaline’s spiked through his body, providing him the balance needed to keep this up without tripping. Louis is  _thrilled_ –and Harry is feeling it on dangerous levels.

And it’s only minutes before Louis makes the fatal mistake of trying to start in the opposite direction again. Expecting this, the Alpha acts first, circling an arm around the boy’s waist, growling against his throat, “Gotcha.”

Against him, Louis pants, shaking his head and thrashing against his hold. “No. Lemme go.”

Growling low in his throat, Harry breathes, “Not a chance.” But Louis fights  _dirty._

Without any indication, the Omegas hand reaches back, yanking roughly at his hair as his legs reel backwards, kicking him. 

Unprepared for the dull pain, the Alpha hisses, losing his grip enough that Louis yanks again until he’s away from his throat, then the Omega scratches at his face and swiftly heads in the opposite direction.

_He thinks he’s going somewhere, funny._

Growling, in seconds the Alpha’s torn across the field, catching Louis around the waist and tugging the unsuspecting boy so he slips with a startled gasp. Careful, holding him fast, Harry makes it so he’s lowered softly into the unsoiled snow. Quiet seconds breeze by as the two catch their breath. In the snow, holding his weight above Louis, the Alphas hands go numb, but  _fuck if it matters with how he’s blazing inside._

And the boy beneath him is so gorgeous–eyes round, long lashes casting shadows across his sharp cheeks. The flames must reach Louis as his mouth parts, rosy and tempting. “You want me,” the Omega marvels, like this is up-to-the-minute information.

“Yeah,” Harry breathes back, focused on his mouth. “You’re such a tease.”

Beneath him, Louis shivers, lashes fluttering. “You caught me…” his voice is breathless, and the current thrills between them.

“Now you’re mine,” the Alpha finishes, then his mouth is on Louis’s, and  _fuck yeah_ he’s delicious, addicting even as Harry is all drugging sweeps of lips and tongue. With a little mewl, the Omega winds his arms around Harry’s neck, fingers in his hair, hold tight and desperate as Louis kisses him back, arching against him so beautifully that Harry groans into his mouth, “Good boy.” Without permission one hand grips Louis’s thigh, hitching his leg, spreading his thighs, so those legs are around his waist. Locking his canines around the boy’s bottom lip, the Alpha growls low in his throat as his breathing roughens and his cock throbs against his zipper.

Slowing, his mouth sucks on Louis’s bottom lip as his breathing evens out and then he licks over the plush flesh, murmuring,  _“Mine.”_

“Haz…” the Omega whines, fingers twisting in his hair again. “I love you. Love you so much.”

Tensing, the Alpha’s hips reflexively push down against the boy, pleasure clawing through him, straight to his cock. “Christ…Stop sayin’ that,” he breathes urgently, seconds away from grinding against him, listening to those words. Wants to listen to Louis whine and pant and  _scream_ them.

“No,” the Omega breathes, rolling his hips and the friction on his cock, the yanking on his curls, the way the Omega’s parted lips run along his jaw causes the Alpha to close his eyes, breathing roughening as he falls into it. “I love you.” Growling, his hands find Louis’s luscious arse, pacing his movements against his cock, listening to him mewl against his throat, “Yes, love you so much.”

With his movement, snow drafts around them, the cold reminding him where they are. Jerking away, the Alpha rolls onto his back. Staring up at the gloomy grey sky, he barely feels the snow melt beneath him, seeping through his shirt. Swallowing, he mutters gruffly, “Don’t say it anymore, yeah?”

“Why?” Louis whispers, huddling close then bracing himself on his elbows, the little  _v_ between his brows again as his swollen mouth turns down in an adorable frown. “Why not?”

“Because…” he mutters, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes before finishing, “I don’t need to hear that. I don’t need to start believing it and then have you screw with my feelings again.”

Beside him, Louis remains quiet–emotions tangled, confusing and head-ache-worthy–before he breathes, “Oh, Haz...”

In a fluid movement, he gets to his feet and backs away from where Louis scrambles upright, hugging the jacket to his frame. Those eyes are wide and pleading but  _no, no he is not going here again._

“Baby,” Louis breathes, shivering in the cold. “Please…come here.”

Swallowing thickly, the Alpha shakes his head, muttering, “Don’t start, Lou. Don’t fucking start.”

“Please,” the Omega says, tears forming in those beautiful eyes, the hand around his belly clutching protectively. And like the idiot he is, Harry kneels beside him, and murmurs softly, “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. And I’m not trying to make you feel bad either. I’m being careful. Trekking light. Because…we’re both walking on a thin sheet of ice covering a bloody lake, Lou. See what happened earlier? Our steps were too fast, too hard. And the ice cracked. And if I keep…if you keep going there it’s going to spread until we’re drowning, freezing, and lost.”

Amusement sweeps through Louis as the boy fights one of those smiles–badly time, but he’ll take it over tears. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters warily. “Laugh all you want but it’s true.”

And the Omega does, clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles. Rolling his eyes, the Alpha reminds himself that this  _is_ a sixteen year old virgin-boy after all. “I’m sorry,” he gasps, the giggles again, “I’m sorry, but jeez, H, you make things so much more complicated than they really  _are._ ”

This time the Alpha speaks through clenched teeth, “It  _is_ fucking complicated, Louis,” and before he makes the conscious decision to, he continues, “You pushed and you pusd and you fucking  _pushed_ me to tell you what I felt and  _why,_ and I pushed and pushed and pushed to be _better_ and I finally fucking got my shit together for five seconds despite  _everything,_ and I laid it out for you, Louis, I  _bared it all,_ and you…” _ruined me._ “You threw everything back in my face. I’m not going through that again. I’m not. I’d rather  _never_ hear the words again then have to say them back. Because you know what, Lou? Just because I’m terrible at expressing my feelings doesn’t mean they’re  _not there._ ”

Jaw working, Harry scrubs at his eyes, muttering, “Don’t put me through that again, Louis. ‘Cause next time I won’t…I won’t…”  _I can’t even say the fucking words because I will. Next time I put it out there again, and next time you do the same thing, I will start it all over again. Because I can’t let you go again…I can’t…_

Somehow those thoughts become words, and the blood drains from his face as Louis breathes, “Oh, Haz.”The soft, gentle tone he’s taken on causes Harry’s temper to flare.

“No. Just…Just leave it at that. I don’t want your fucking pity.

“’M not,” Louis whispers, and when Harry risks a glance at him again, his eyes are sincere, swimming with so much sincerity that Harry almost wants to believe him. Almost. “’M not pitying you…I wouldn’t. I’m just…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, okay? Please, believe that I didn’t mean it. And I won’t ever do it again. I won’t…I won’t make you have to start all over again. I won’t. I know I messed up…I know I took us back to step one and I know that I have  _no idea what you’re feeling,_ but I’m sorry…

“Enough,” he snaps, glaring like he’s never glared at this boy before. Louis flinches, and though he wants to feel bad, though he  _should,_ Harry _doesn’t._ Not now, not when he’s coiled, wounded, defensive rage. “It changes  _nothing.”_

Without warning, Louis scrambles forward, arms going around his waist, head resting on his chest as the Omega snivels, “I know it doesn’t. P-Please, don’t…don’t shut me out…I’m s-s-sorry…”

Motionless, the Alpha stares straight ahead into the vast nothingness and wonders what more there is to give this boy. “I feel so weak…” the words are venomous. “I feel weak for being hurt over that. For bothering to try and understand what I feel even I when I can’t even manage to understand  _you._ I can’t figure you out. You’re all over the place. One second I feel closer to you than I’ve ever felt to anyone….the next I feel distanced by miles. I don’t know what you want from me, Lou.”

“You’re not weak for feeling, Haz,” Louis whispers. “You’re not weak for trying to understand your emotions. I know I’m a  _mess,_ but I’m as lost as you. And I’m so in love that it scares me to the point that I forget that I’m not  _alone_ in this.”

“You make me stupid. So stupid. But I don’t care. I don’t remember anything I’ve been taught when you’re smiling that smile that makes me stupid. I don’t remember that I shouldn’t feel like this…I don’t even care that I  _do._ I don’t remember who I am supposed to be, or that emotions shouldn’t exist for someone like me. Emotions are so weak, Lou…And you make me so damned stupid to think otherwise.”

“Harry. Emotions aren’t  _weak!_ I hate that you think that way, I hate that Alphas are taught to be these unrealistic emotionless machines and I especially hate that it’s so ingrained that you actually  _believe it._ ” There’s something determined in his voice now. A tone that sends sharp spikes of anxiety through him.

“It’s not ingrained, Louis. It’s true. Emotions are what cause people to act stupid. Anger, hatred, jealously…I’ve felt it all lately. And I’ve been acting like a fucking idiot because of it.” 

“Those are only negative emotions, Haz.” When the Alpha doesn’t respond, the Omega sits up, brushing the curls from his face and pressing, “Let me show you positive emotions. Please…If only for tonight.”

As the anxiety crawls up his throat, Harry croaks weakly, “I don’t…No. I don’t need to experience that because then I will always want  _more._ ”

“Please. I’m here. I will  _always_ be here to show you the positive emotions.”

_I can’t trust that…We’re not forever; you made that pretty damned clear today._

Again. No response.

Warm sparks of tenacity light up his eyes as Louis cups his face in both hands. “You’re thinking into this again. Stop doing that. Stop it…Take me home, borrow my clothes, I know I have some big enough ‘cause I’ve stolen enough of your clothes to manage that. Spend the night with me. Let  _me_ give  _you_ something for once.”

“Your Mum…” it’s a sorry fucking excuse and Louis knows it, “My Mum will understand.”

“It’s not going to change anything,” he breathes, willing him to back down.

“I don’t care,” Louis breathes fiercely. “I don’t care. Just stay with me tonight.” And he’s not going to give up on this, the Alpha realises, exhaling a defeated breath, “Fine.”

Now, the boy flinches, lowering his gaze, taking back his hands, mumbling, “I mean…you don’t have to. If you need…space I understand.”

“I don’t need space.” And he’s given up on trying to say no at this point, because he doesn’t want space, and he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. What he wants is Louis. What he wants is what the boy is offering him. “I need to be close to you and know you’re still mine…I know I’m not making sense. But its freakin’ me out how I’m feeling right now. And if I don’t have you close, the thoughts will play over and over in my head until I…Show me. Show me the positives. I want that. I want you.”

“Okay,” Louis nods, lifting those eyes, and smiling timidly. “No space. No freak-outs. No thinking. Just LouisandHarry. I want to make you feel loved. Tonight I’m going to do that, okay?”

Even panicked, terrified, pressured…Harry loves this boy. And more than anything else Harry wants this boy to love him. “Okay…” he whispers shakily. “Okay.”

♥

            Shivering, Louis gently runs his knuckles across Harry’s cheek. Beneath him, the Alpha is motionless, the only movement being the soft rise and fall of his chest, and Louis knows that brilliant mind of his is working overtime, a mile a minute. This scares him–because without a doubt he’s going over  _every stupid thing to have come out of Louis’s stupid mouth._ “Haz…” he breathes hesitantly, as to distract him from those thoughts.

“Mmm,” the Alpha hums low, low in his throat. Despite the weather, his insides turn soupy, and his heart aches.  _My fault. I did this to us._ Knowing this, the tears well up in his eyes, burning against the blind iris’ that must seem cold as ice to Harry.

“I-I’m cold,” the boy whispers, knowing the words on the tip of his tongue,  in his heart, won’t make this better, because the  _“I love you so much, I didn’t mean it, I can’t live without you, I hate myself more than ever right now,”_ are the thinnest glass, easily broken by invisible armor steeled to perfection as Harry’s is.

“Let’s get you home, then.”  _No, leave me here to freeze in the snow. I deserve it._

“I…Why are you being so nice to me?” Louis asks, pinching his eyes shut to hide the fact that he honestly  _doesn’t_ understand his Alpha anymore than some stranger on the street.

There’s one, painful chuckle before Harry mutters, “Because being angry doesn’t give me or anyone else the right to treat you like shit.”

“I’d deserve it…” And some twisted part of Louis wishes Harry would treat him how he deserves because that’s all Louis has  _known;_ he’s _known_ what to expect from an Alpha…Except Harry Styles doesn’t  _act_ like  _him._ And it’s… _confusing_ Louis–the childish Omega side to him is _beyond relieved_ , but Louis…Louis  _grew up too fast, too young_ and can’t seem to go against what he’s  _learnt_ for what he’s  _learning now._

 _‘He didn’t love us, Lou…’_ his Omega blares this, the lie rebounds in his head until Louis responds mentally ‘ _shut up, you’re wrong. He loved me. I know he loved me…He just made mistakes.’_

And God not even Louis believes those words anymore. So  _why?_ he wonders desperately,  _why do I keep trying to believe them?_

“No, Lou,” the Alpha says, unknowingly reflecting his Omega’s thoughts, “You don’t…I can’t understand why you’d ever think so.”

And his Omega seconds this. “It’s…It’s all I know. When you  _are_ bad, you deserved to be treated likewise.”  _That makes no sense,_ his Omega hisses, upset with him,  _when you’re bad you deserve to be beaten bloody? Alpha is right. Alpha is always right._

Louis flinches, then shivers, running his hands up his arms to comfort himself during the mental attack. “Come on. Get up. You’re freezing. Let’s get you home.”

But his legs are numb as his voice has vanished.

“Do I need to carry you?”

Still  _nothing._ Nothing but what’s running through his head. And what runs through his head are the  _memories,_ images his minds kept sharp, clear,  _fixed_ in that faraway place. And suddenly the colour  _pink_ comes to mind. And then  _crimson_ follows.

“I remember what white and pink and  _crimson_  look like,” his voice sounds hollow, not his. “But I can’t remember green. Or blue. Or yellow. Or those colours I want to remember.”

More silence, then, “How did you lose your vision, Louis?”

A small, bitter smile tips his mouth as Louis shakes his head. “D’you think if I remembered those colours…it’d make a difference? Would I be…worthy?”

“Screw the colours. Screw them. They don’t mean  _shit when_ –,”

“Red is the last colour I remember seeing,” Louis explains, shrugging. “It means something to me.”

“I don’t…” a shaky breath, “I don’t fucking understand, Louis.”

“I know. Sorry. I’m…jumbled right now.” And his smile softens as he asks, “Would you believe me if I said I was literally having an inward fight with my Omega right now?”

“Yeah,” the Alpha mutters, amusement colouring his bittersweet tone, “I have the same fuckin’ fights all the time. Would you believe me if I said I literally wanted to throttle that side of me?”

Louis smiles crookedly, exposing his eyes, tears and all.  “Yeah. I have that same urge right now. ‘S too bad that’s not possible.”

“Either way, I still wouldn’t let anyone hurt any part of you again. Not even yourself.”

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, the Omega thinks these words over, then asks tentatively, “Do you promise?”

“Always. I will  _always_ be here to do that. But right now, we’re going home, because I think your lips are turning blue.”

Louis grimaces, the pokes a finger in the snow, the cold needling at his fingertip, “I don’t wanna go home…” And he takes his hand back to snuggle close, trying to bleed his love into Harry, wondering all the while what colour love would signify–not red, Louis hopes. “I wanna stay with you.”

“’M not goin’ anywhere.”  _But you would if I made you–what does that mean?_

Louis swallows thickly. “I…I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. I’ve got you.”  _I’m not scared for me…I’m scared for you. I’m scared of what your staying is going to cost you._

Before the Omega can respond, his hand is taken as the Alpha helps him to a stance, mouth brushing his knuckles. Tucked into the Harry’s side, their steps are stumbling, snow slush’s beneath their feet and it’s so quiet, nothing said, everything felt. Emotions are silent unless you give them a voice, Louis thinks, but doesn’t dare say this, clinging to the silence.

When they reach the drive, the panic swamps him and Louis struggles to breathe around the force of it. Being so close, remembering what happened here… _Oh, no._ He knows, he knows, Harry  _knows,_ his Omega’s now realising this, and the turnaround leaves Louis even more confused as instinct urges him to make the Alpha leave before he leaves  _him._

Wanting to recoil, the Omega shakes his head roughly, letting Harry guide him inside, trembling as the warmth cascades over him. Tugging him upstairs, Louis doesn’t count the steps, doesn’t note the distance because too quickly they’re back in his bedroom. 

And there’s no hiding, everything is exposed as Louis smiles weakly, escaping into the wardrobe where his hands tremble as he goes to the special second in the back where everything of Harry’s is neatly piled in order (trackies first, then T-shirts, jumpers, the silky stuff Louis loves most). And he grabs the trackies and jumper because it’s cold and he  _knows_ Harry must be feeling it because the Alpha hadn’t even been wearing a jacket. Nicking one of the jumpers for himself as well, the Omega moves on to comfy, loose trackies and socks.

Emerging from the space, Louis listens, but it’s so silent that panic spikes in his veins straight to his stuttering heart. “H?” he says inaudibly.

“Here,” the Alpha murmurs quietly in direction of the window-seat. As the panic drains, Louis makes it across the room in shaky, unsure steps.

“I…I thought you’d left,” he admits, extending the hand with his change of clothes.

Rather than taking the clothes, hands settle on his hips, bringing him close so Louis stands before him with the Alpha resting his head on his belly. “I…I wouldn’t blame you f-for leaving…”  _Please, don’t leave again._

“I’m not leaving.”

Squirming until Harry retracts enough, Louis crawls into his lap, on his knees straddling him as his careful fingers brush the strands of hair from his face and his mouth plants sweet, loving kisses across his face, mumbling between kisses, “I don’t,” against his temple, “want you to,” across his cheek, “ever leave me,” over his jaw, onto the next side of his face. “Don’t go,” soft against his mouth, “I love you.”

Before the Alpha can tell him not to say it again, Louis breathes, “I know you don’t believe it…But please let me say it…”

“Why? Why do you need to say it?” Again, Harry sounds distressed, but underneath his affection the Alpha is relaxed, taking what Louis so willingly gives.

Against his jaw, the Omega tells him, “Because I need to remind myself why I can’t live without you. And I need to remind you the same.”

“I don’t need to hear the words…” another, hoarse breath; Louis wonders whether Harry is lying to himself about this as Louis does with his own touchy topics. Because the Omega senses that he  _does_ need to hear the words; as much as Louis needs to say them, Harry needs to hear them.

“I do.”

“Stop,” the Alpha orders, growling low in his throat, defensive in mere seconds. And though Louis is  _terrified_ of his inner Alpha…his Omega isn’t. Instinctively that part of him knows that he doesn’t need protection from Harry’s Alpha. Bonded Alphas are mortally dangerous to everyone but their mates–even when Harry’s out of control, Louis holds his remote. And his Omega has always known this. “Stop screwing with my head and–,”

“’M not…I wouldn’t. I love you too much,” Louis interrupts, voice level as his mouth runs soft, pleading kisses along his nose. “And I’m not just saying the words. You’re the only one I want. You’re the only one who has my heart and my love. For me you’re the only one, and you always have been. I love you.”

Muscles loose again, the Alpha gives under his touch, muttering roughly, “I’m not going to stop thinkin’ about what you said earlier…I don’t think I’m going to be able to let it go…”

Louis closes his eyes, and whispers, “I know what I said, and I know what I felt…And when we make choices we have to live with them and the consequences that follow. I can’t tell you what’s going to happen, Haz…But I’m here…And I’m begging you not to take this away from me. Please…I wasn’t honest before. I held a lot back. But I’m  _trying_ not to make the same mistake again.”

“How do you get to me so easily? I can’t tell you no…And you take advantage of that. Fine. Say the words as much as you want, but it changes nothing.”

Brushing their mouths, a soft purr escapes his throat. “I love you.”

“Okay,” the Alpha murmurs quietly. That one, lone word tugs at his heartstrings, creating a dull ache that hurts even though Louis  _knows_ and _understands_ why Harry isn’t going to say it back. And like he said, he’s going to live with it, because Harry’s  _here,_ and that’s more than three words…That’s the lie that’s going to get him by until they’re not  _here,_ not in this depression.

Scrambling to his feet, Louis mumbles, cheeks heated with humiliation, “I’m goin’ to change in the bathroom, okay?”

“Okay.”

Though the distance scares him, the Omega reaches the opposite side of the room, hand on the door-handle. With a deep breath, Louis turns again, blurting, “Stay…Please stay, okay?”

“Going nowhere.”

Pasting a weak smile, the Omega scurries into the bathroom and hurries to change, splashing his heated face with warm water before sinking to the floor. Swallowing a sob, Louis hugs his knees to his chest, holding his lungs secure as his cheek rests against his knees.

And the events are crashing through him in unforgiving words–, “ _You. Are. Loved,”_ and  _“goodbye,”_ and  _“I could hate you…”_

More desperation. More pain. More strength.

Footsteps. Louis can hear them all over again. Hear them fading.  _Leaving._ Because of  _him._ And he can feel the desperation gripping his lungs, the realisation that he couldn’t  _breathe_ without him, the panic that he’d ruined the best thing in his life.

_Harry Harry Harry._

The only name that causes butterflies of anxiety to swarm in his belly, the only name that causes those butterflies to flutter and spread those beautiful wings and just…just…

Without his realising, Louis stands, whispering to nobody but himself, “I can do this…I can…I can...” until he’s back in the bedroom.

“Welcome back,” Harry whispers from the bed. Swallowing around more emotion, the Omega’s hands wring at his belly. “Hi…”

“C’mere.”

Eager, the Omega climbs into the bed, sinking into the mattress and pillows. Just as quick, Harry is draped over him, but this time the Alpha rests his head on Louis’s shoulder, arms around him, cradling him as Louis buries his nose in the Alpha’s curls, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other reaching around to run his fingers through his hair, breathing in his thick, delicious scent as the panic and the hurt and worries drift away.

“I didn’t think love would be like this,” Louis breathes, rambling. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it overly much anyway. I didn’t think I’d like, you know, fall in love, but I know what I’m feeling, I’ve always been scarily attuned to them. Emotionally intelligent as physiologists call it.  And…I think that’s good. Because one of us needs to be…Haz, do you believe in soulmates?”

Above him, the Alpha murmurs, “I didn’t.”

“Now?"

“I do…”

“Oh,” Louis whispers, blushing ridiculously. “Me too. I mean…we have that connection don’t we?”

When there’s no response, Louis remains undeterred, continuing, “I think so. I can’t hurt you without hurting me. I can’t be without you. Earlier…Earlier when you walked away I couldn’t breathe…I was so…scared. And I couldn’t breathe knowing…knowing I was going to have to figure that out. I don’t want to figure it out. I want to stay like this, I want to feel safe. And you’re the only one who makes me feel safe so. You’re the only Alpha that makes me feel safe like this. Like right now.”

“Yeah?” it’s doubtful.

“Yeah,” Louis assures, stroking his curls again. “I also noticed something. We give and we take from each other so much…Do you think we’re giving and taking too much?”

“Probably.”

An incredulous giggle escapes him, the Alphas hair tickling his nose. “Well I don’t really care. This is all I want. You can have everything I have. And…maybe I can have the same. That way neither of us is missing any more pieces.”

“Christ. We are one fucked up pair, you and I,” the Alpha murmurs, but there’s an award-worthy grin in his voice.

“You keep me from falling apart,” Louis whispers sincerely. “I’ll always hold on. You’re what makes me strong. I need you. I don’t care about anything else; I’m not scared of love. Not now.”

“That’s what sets us apart, Lou,” Harry says. “I was falling apart when you…when you said those things, but I was prepared to let go. It took _everything_ I had to do that. Now? Now ’m not strong enough to walk away again so we’re…You can’t be scared. Because it won’t matter. Next time I’m told to go…won’t happen. I feel obsessed–totally  _fucked up. We are fucked up._ ” Obsessed. Louis likes that word. Obsessed–to be the point of Harry’s obsession sends his heart soaring to the most warped, lovely heights. Which makes him…as Harry would say…fucked up.

“Only a bit…” he breathes shakily. “But it doesn’t mean we’re not perfect for each other. Not at all. All my jagged edges fit yours perfectly, you know. We’re better together. Fucked up or not.”

“I…I think so, too. I’d go a bit mental without you.”  _More fluttering butterflies._

Louis smiles softly. “You’re already mental.”

“But you ground me. Hold me down.”

“I’m glad,” the Omega whispers, nosing at his temple before explaining, “I want to be special to you.”

“You’ve always been special. To everyone. To me.”

Purring, the Omega runs his hands through those thick, silky curls again. “Nah. That’s all you, Hazza. You’re perfect–what every Omega wants. And I know I’m a bit biased, as I’m quite smitten with you, but I know it’s not only me who knows so. You should hear how the Omegas at school talk about you. To be honest, I think they’re trying to get your attention through me.” 

At this, the Alpha growls, the sound irritated. As to sooth him, Louis giggles again, petting. “Mhm. All of ‘em. They want your love and your attention, probably your knot and your bonding-bite too. They want you to be their Alpha. You’re quite the catch, Haz…but I think it’s more that you’re irresistible.”

One beat of silence follows–then, exposed, and self-conscious (it’s unbelievable that  _his_ Alpha sounds like this, self-lacking), “Do you want those things?”

“All the time,” Louis breathes, soothing, heartfelt, in love. “I’m not immune to your endless charm. I want your love and your attention. And I want,” his face heats at his next words, “your knot and your bonding-bite. Whatever you’re willing to give me, I want.”

A low, primeval growl vibrates between them as those arms tighten around him. “Then the rest can piss off. I want to give  _you_ whatever you want. Emotionally, and sexually. You’re everything to me…”

Louis’s breath hitches as his Omega whines, begging for it. Ignoring that, Louis mumbles, “I wonder does wanting so much from each other make us crazy?”

“Somewhat,” the Alpha allows, but continues easily, “But it doesn’t matter because I crave you more than should be possible. I was so close…so close to bonding you. Wanted to, imagined it. But…I don’t want it to happen like that. Not when we’re angry and hurt. I want to give that to you when you’re blissed out from the orgasms I give you, when you’re telling me you love me, and when I believe it…That’s all. I don’t care how long it takes. Could happen next week or next year. But nothing matters but  _those things,_ not the age restrictions, not the blessings…Just that.”

“Just that,” Louis breathes back. “Just me and you…Would you be gentle with me, Haz? Or would it be instinctive Alpha-Omega mating?”

Tense, the Alpha whispers, “First time, gentle. I want to worship your body. Gentle. And slow. Your first time…I will take care of you.”

Louis relaxes under the reassurance as his grip in the Alphas curls loosens, the breath leaving him in a rush of butterflies and warmth. “I wanted it too. I wanted you to give into your Alpha b-b-because I was ready. I am ready. But I’ll wait. I’ll wait.”

At this the Alpha laughs throatily, “We’re very backwards. Usually it’s the Alpha rushing for sex and claiming to wait until the Omega is ready. But you’re so eager to give, to let me have you forever. Why is that? I still can’t figure that out. I’m not someone…I don’t deserve that…Not nearly good enough right now.”

Gentle, Louis reminds, “I told you, Haz, I love you. You’ve always been good enough. Everyone thinks so. You should too.”

A low, bitter laugh comes from deep in Harry’s chest. “Not everyone, trust me.”

“Well whoever doesn’t think so is stupid,” Louis grumbles childishly, kissing his hair again.

“Some might say the stupid ones are those who fall victim to empty charm and compliments,” there’s no…emotion to his voice, cool, level, calculating. Meant to scare. “Those who don’t know any better.”

“Well those people are stupid, too,” Louis states resolutely

“So everyone is stupid and we’re mad?” the mild amusement in his tone has Louis’s heart brimming with too many emotions, too much love.

“Yep. I’m coming to that conclusion.”

Soft, content humming, then, “Just face it, baby, I’m insane, you’re mad, together we’re mental. Everyone else? Missin’ out on all the fun.”

Louis giggles, inhaling his scent, “’Cause we have so much fun. Right. But, oh well, worse things have happened. I can lose my mind. But I can’t lose you.”

“You’re very sappy this evening, sweetheart.”  _I’m trying to make you believe I love you. And I always will._

“But you fancy me,” he claims, grinning shyly.

“I fancy you.” Direct. Sure.

Louis nuzzles his nose against his temple, breathing playfully, “D’you? Prove it.”

“How?”

“However you want,” the Omega breathes, “I’m yours. Let me know you’re mine, too.”

“I don’t know how…” a tense, angry breath. “But I’m here. And I’ll stay.”

Closing his eyes, Louis admits, “I’m scared I’ll mess up again…”

“Me too…”

“Don’t let me mess up again…”

“Hush,” the Alpha breathes, sensing Louis’s growing distress. “Sleep, baby. ‘S been a long day. Sleep.”

“Promise to stay.”

“Sleep.”

Tears swim in his eyes as Louis presses frantically, “Promise me. Promise me I’m not going to wake up to never hear from you again. Promise me you’re not going to give up on this and run away from this…us.”

“I thought about that…” Harry whispers roughly. “How do you manage to figure me out so easily? You know how I think…and yet I’m clueless when it comes to you.”

“Thought about what?” Louis asks, trying to understand.

“What I was going to do,” his voice is faint, barely audible even so close. “How I was going to manage to live stably without you.”

“You won’t have to,” Louis wills him to realise this. “I won’t leave. I won’t make you leave again. I won’t lie to protect you or to save us…Never again.”

“I can’t trust that, Lou. I can’t. You’re too bloody selfless. Too strong. I don’t trust you on this anymore.” And those helpless words drown him in a riptide of sadness. But the Omega is determined to keep it together, to prove his love and his devotion and his inability to live without _Harry._

“I’m not that selfless. Not when it comes to you…I need you. And I realised that too late. But I’m working on it  _now._ Let me prove that I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

“No…No. Just go to sleep.”

“Haz…”  _please don’t shut down on me._

“Lou. It’s been a bloody long day. Please, don’t fight me on this one right now. Go to sleep.”

“You don’t believe me…” he realises as the tears slide soundlessly down his cheeks.

“You can’t expect me to,” Harry breathes, shifting so they’re both on their sides, one of the Alpha’s hands resting on his hip, drawing soothing circles as Harry’s mouth glides over his jaw. “Don’t cry, baby. No more tears today. Please, can we go to sleep not angry at each other tonight?”

Louis snivels. “N-No! Not when I feel like the worst human being on this planet and I want to slap you in the face for m-m-making me feel this way and then I want you to hit me back because I deserve it for doing that to–!”

“Calm down,” the Alpha timbre in his voice causes Louis to snivel again as the tears slow on command. “No more. Enough. I don’t ever want to hear that shit again. Nobody is allowed to lay a hand on you with the intent of harming you. Nobody. Stop thinking like that. No mistake you make means you deserve to be beaten. Are we clear?”  _Listen to him, Alpha is always right,_ his Omega pleads, desperate to be comforted.

Cuddling close, Louis makes the decision to follow his intuition and closes his eyes, inhaling Harry’s comforting scent, thick and expensive and lovely. “W-What does punishments entitle then, Haz? If you’re n-n-not going to…to beat me, then what’s a punishment entitle?”

“Getting you in pretty little lace panties, or anything pretty, perhaps another flower-crown? Then bending you over, so that sexy arse you’ve got is in my sights, my hands touchin’ you, like I did that one night,”  _what night?_ “and spanking you until you’re screaming.”

Louis scrunches up his face, pressing warily, “Screaming in pain?”

At this, the Alpha chuckles, then kisses his hair. “No, lovely. Pleasure. Well, perhaps a bit of pain, it’s a punishment after all. But mainly pleasure.”

Trusting him, Louis relaxes, breathing, “I…Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, you can punish me,” the boy clarifies, then tries to get Harry flat as to crawl in his lap.

Grabbing his hands, Harry laughs again. “Not tonight, Louis. I meant  _later._ ”

“Later?” the Omega whines, petulant. “But I hate suspense.”

“I know. Part of the reason I’m delaying, actually. Also, I doubt your Mum would take kind to…that happening in her household. And no, we can’t be quiet, because I want to hear you scream and pant and beg me to give you what you’re going to want.”

Louis shivers, but huffs again. “Fine. Be that way. But…I mean…we could always try something else…now…”

“Go to sleep, Louis.”

Pouting, the Omega snuggles close, then reminds again, “I love you. And I mean it with all my heart.”  _And more._

♥

            What must be hour’s later Louis bolts awake–disoriented.  _Harry._ Blinking rapidly, the Omega pats around the mattress to find the source of his unconscious alarm: he’s alone. Panic curls tight in his belly as his breathing comes unevenly.  _Oh, no. No, no, no. Not again. Not again._

In this state, Louis sits upright, movements dragging as he whispers desperately into the colourless space, “H-Haz?”

When there’s no answer, the vague, insidious dread grips him–he’s really alone. Abandoned. Again. And he  _deserves it–again._

Scrambling out of bed, Louis doesn’t know where he’s going or why but he’s started in direction of his bedroom door. Slowly, he opens it, tears already threatening to spill past his eyes to his burning cheeks. Without thinking, he starts to creep down the hall, hand flattened on the right wall, towards the stairway, but–, “Here’s your cuppa. Come sit with me. Are you okay?” it’s his Mum’s voice, hushed and caring.

Frozen, Louis stands there, eavesdropping guiltily–praying desperately it’s Harry who answers, that the Alpha hasn’t left him.

“I…Uh, yes,” that voice, one he’s know  _anywhere,_ is rough, laced with emotion. Warm, dizzying relief floods him as Louis sinks to the carpet at the head of the stairs, holding one trembling hand to his mouth as to remain quiet. “You don’t have to ask, honest.”

“I think I do,” his Mum disagrees softly, but it’s not like when she’s speaking to Louis or the girls when they’re upset, this soft, unassuming tone is more like she’s approaching a wounded animal, prepared to disarm its attack in seconds. And Louis knows Harry can’t be comfortable–defensive, Louis resists the impulse to march downstairs, tell his Mother to back-off, to make sure Harry’s okay  _himself._ Because his Mum is going about it the wrong way–his Alpha isn’t some abused animal, he’s a  _person,_ with human feelings and  _human actions,_ and  _a human heart._ And that tone makes him so angry, like he’s seeing  _red_ all over again. And he swears it’s not his imagination, that there’s some hue of red around the darkness. “What happened today?”

“I don’t know…” one, unstable breath. “Just…I’m confused? And…”

“Go ahead, H,” Jay encourages. Louis hears,  _“Good dog.”_ More red. Crimson. Almost eliminating the black. But he doesn’t notice he’s listening too hard.

The stretch of silence that overcomes the room has Louis thinking Harry won’t answer because Harry doesn’t tell  _anyone_ his feelings, but then–

“I’m lost,” the Alpha mutters reluctantly. “And angry. And extremely…I don’t know, hurt or whatever…Yeah, I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the chest a few times but can’t really find the will to seek help. ‘M a do-it-yourself kinda bloke.”

The words are sharp as razors scraping viscously against Louis’s heart as the red dissipates, becoming unseen tears. Louis wants to sob and weep and grovel and beg forgiveness and take it all  _back, wishes he could._

“And yet you’re okay?” his Mother asks quietly.

“Doesn’t matter–I don’t want to talk about me. Like I said, I can handle myself. Just…I want to know more about…about Louis’s Dad. Your mate, I assume.”

At this, Louis blanches, horrified as his breathing hitches and stops.  _Oh no no no, not this, not this._

“I…What would you like to know?” even his Mother sounds stressed now. Nobody talks about  _him. Nobody,_ especially not Jay.

“Not much. I’d only like to know whether he’s still alive or not? I know you are able to feel that if you two are still bonded.”

“We’re not,” Jay says sharply. “That’s been over. I don’t want anything to do with that monster.”

Louis squeezes his eyes shut.  _No, Mum, no…he’s not a monster…he’s not…I wish I could talk to him again. To apologise. Just so he knows I forgive him. Why did you have to break the bond? Why?_

“I assumed you bonded with someone else then. Or he did. Or he’s dead.”

“Yes, I did. Didn’t last. Is this an interrogation, H?”

“Not at all. Well, have you heard from services that he’s alive?”

“I…Last I heard, yes, he’s still alive,” she whispers hollowly. “I wish he wasn’t.”

“I make wishes come true. Do you know the general location he’s at presently?” his voice has changed, tight and controlled.  _Calculating._

 _Oh, God…_ “I don’t think I should divulge any more information right now,” Jay says, more steel to her voice. Louis has never loved her so much as he does in this moment.

“You don’t have to,” the Alpha allows lightly. “Though it’d make my life a morsel easier than if I’d have to contact outside resources and track him down myself. It could go two ways, Jay. You can tell me now so I can bring law enforcement into it, as I am  _very influential, connections_ and  _such,_ and I can make you feel safe, and make sure he  _never_ comes back and he can  _never_ hurt my boy or your family again.  _Or_ you can withhold the information so I take matters into my own hands. The outcome will be much the same, rest assured. Just more…hands on.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath that mirrors Louis’s. “Harry Styles,” his Mother says slowly–Louis prays she says something  _miraculous_  to save them all from the inevitable ruins. “Stop right there. That…part of our lives has been over–,”

“Don’t,” the snarl is fierce…and protective. Inside, his Omega purrs, but Louis’s terror mutes the oblivious, instinctive side. “Don’t give me that, Johanna. Don’t. Because you…you didn’t see him today. You didn’t see the way he  _acted._ And how…Christ, he thinks he deserved that treatment, Jay. He really fucking believes that,” the Alpha’s voice lowers to an arctic whisper, “And because Louis still hurts, nothing is over. I had to watch my Omega  _break_ and  _fall apart_ because…because he’s  _been_ hurting, been lost in this twisted mindset that repulsive excuse for an Alpha rooted in his mind. That…That I can’t…I can’t live with. I need to avenge him.” 

_No, Haz, you don’t…please, don’t…I love you more than I love him. Please…_

Unable to listen in anymore, Louis stands and hurries back into the bedroom, careful to shut the door soft as possible before curling into an insignificant ball on his bed. There, the Omega bites his knuckles to quiet his sobs, scalding tears streaming down his face as the scorching _regret_ settles in his bones, leaving his entire body to ache like his heart. “ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”_ the little sob comes from somewhere in his throat, but this time Louis doesn’t know who he’s apologising too– _him, Harry, Mum? Himself._

God…he should apologise to himself–for all the  _hatred_ he’s unconsciously directed at himself, all the  _suppressing_ his Omega’s endured, the _blame…_ for taking the bandages off too early…for screaming until his throat didn’t stop hurting for  _days…_ for refusing to talk to anyone about it… _so many things he should apologise for._

But he  _can’t._ And he  _won’t._ Because he  _deserved that. All of it. His fault. His fault. His fault._

Numbed, his sobs fade into soft snivels though the ache has intensified past the point of pain. But this time it’s  _different,_ not like he’s falling apart or collapsing…which must be the only reason he manages to remain conscious and breathing.

It’s an agonizing amount of time, an  _eternity_ maybe, before his bedroom door creaks open and soft, nearly inaudible footsteps approach the bed. Attempting to feign sleep, Louis relaxes his features and slows his breathing enough that it’s believable. Or well, not really, as the Alpha laughs quietly, crawling into bed beside him and murmuring in a hushed voice, “Kitten, I know you’re awake.”

Caught, the Omega’s bottom lip pokes out as he mumbles sullenly, “Of course you do.”

One, lithe finger traces his bottom lip as Harry asks, “How much of that did you hear?”

Louis flushes, then admits tentatively, “Not much.”  _Except what you want to do…please don’t do it._

“Mmm,” the Alpha hums (Louis’s insides melt, liquefy, and sooth over the ache in warm, soft ripples), “Really?”

“Really,” the Omega whispers sincerely, exposing his eyes. Then, as to fill the answering silence, Louis explains, “I felt guilty…listening in.”

In response, Harry laughs again, and Louis can’t help but giggle, extending an arm to shove at him. Except Harry’s hand catches his, twining their fingers. “I wouldn’t have. But I guess that’s what makes us so different,” he muses.

Louis smiles shyly. “We’re not so different.”

“Aren’t we?” the Alpha counters.

“Aren’t we?” Louis mimics, attempting to deepen his voice but it’s horribly reedy still. Uncurling, the Omega scrambles close, tilting his face in welcome as Harry grins against his cheek. “Haz?” he whispers when the silence has stretched invisible minutes.

“Yeah.”

“Y-You know I love you more, right? More th-than I love him, I love you. A-And y-you don’t need t-t-to try to e-even the scores for me. It’s okay…I’m okay. I’ve been…okay.”

A cold draft emanates from the Alpha before, “He doesn’t deserve your love. More than I don’t deserve it, he doesn’t. And I am not the kind of Alpha to sit back and watch creatures like him continue to prey on those weaker. I let that happen before to…I let that happen once before and I learnt the hard way that when someone says they’re okay about things like this, they really fucking aren’t. So don’t lie to me, Louis Tomlinson. You want my trust? You want me to believe you when you say you love me? Don’t lie to me.”

A weight settles over his lungs as Louis curls in on himself, trying to relieve the sudden pressure as the words are stolen from his mind, “You don’t know…understand, H. You don’t understand what it was like back then. He was stressed! Not in the right mindset with everything going on! He thought he was c-c-caring about me! And I wouldn’t stop being so…so…like I was! Ungrateful? Bratty? I couldn’t do anything for myself because one second I could be completely fine then the headaches and the  _in and out and in and out_  and hospital visits and bills and…It wasn’t easy on him…He…He…”

Without warning he’s being yanked upright by the arms as the Alpha growls, “Stop making excuses for him. Stop. Being stressed doesn’t…doesn’t mean...” Childishly, Louis tries to cover his ears, doesn’t want to hear anymore, but the Alpha grabs his hands fast, pleading now, “No, baby, no…Please, listen to me.”

“No,” Louis cries, cheeks wet and hot. “Please, stop it…Hazza, please, p-p-please, I love you. I love you more…”

“That’s not what this is about, Lou…That’s  _not_ what I am worried about!”  

“Then w-w-what is it about? What are you w-w-worried about?”

“It’s about you. Kitten, you’re not okay. I’m worried about you! You’re not okay…You need…you need to be  _helped,_ to talk about this…”

“You help me,” Louis breathes as the emotions run out, and he feels  _drained._ “You help me. You’re the only one that helps me. You’re all I need…”

“’M not…I can’t help you like you need to be helped, Lou. You need to see someone  _professional,_ to talk to someone who…”

Shutting down, Louis’s perception fades, blurred and indistinct. And he knows Harry’s talking to him, but he’s pretending the words spoken are not directed at him and therefore do not matter.

“Louis? Are you listening to me?”

Like a rubber band stretched too far, Louis’s clarity snaps back into place as the Omega blinks, blurting, “No. ‘M sorry. I can’t listen to any more. Not today…I need…I need to process. To…To sort some things out in my head.”

Careful hands cup his face, wiping his tears as the Alpha leans their foreheads together, “I’m here. I’m always here…But I can’t…I can’t let this continue. We’re going to work on this…You and I. LouisandHarry.”

More tears, oozing. “You need to promise me. You need to promise me or I won’t believe you. I can’t…I need you, Haz.”

“I promise,” the Alpha says intensely, kissing him hard, leaving Louis’s thoughts scattered, breathless. Fiery. In love. And maybe this is the only Alpha he loves. Maybe…maybe… “I promise to be here through it all. But you have to promise to let me be here to help you.”

Louis blinks, and nods, crying frantically. “I promise. I promise…Just stay. You’re the best thing in my life…Stay.”

And when the Alpha kisses him again, Louis pours his all into the contact, soft, wet lips, warm, loving pleads as his arms go around Harry’s neck, clinging to him. “Love you. Always. Love you more than anything.”

“Even Wolfy?” the Alpha whispers–reminding Louis that he’s left him in France. Which, right now, doesn’t matter as their mouths hold, cling, _support._ “More than Wolfy. More than colours. More than  _anything._  You’re everything I want. Everything I need. I don’t want anything but what’s here,” and his hand slides down his shoulder, over his chest, flattening where Harry’s heart races beneath Louis’s fingers. “What’s here is what I love.”  _Nothing compares. Nothing ever will. If we make it out breathing, if we’re lucky enough to make it without heaving through corrupted lungs…your heart will carry all the love I have to offer, forever. Everlasting. Soulmates._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me again. Sorry, sorry, I'm always popping up somewhere haha.  
> How did it go...?  
> Thoughts?  
> .xx


	20. Part Twenty;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. So, I’ve updated within a few days again, haha, record-time? So, I have some things I feel need to be said. Lately, I feel like I’ve been receiving a bit of negativity. To someone like me this is quite upsetting. I am a very sensitive person, I will say this, and I try to take these comments in stride, but for the most part I’ve been feeling…suffocated, lost? I understand and respect everyone’s opinions, and I know that mostly nobody means these things in the ways I take them…but I hope you guys can understand how I feel when I receive comments on the length and on the progress, etc. I work very hard on these chapters, not only for you all, but for /me/. This is my happy place. Except these past few chapters have turned my happy place…not so happy. I understand that the chapters are lengthy, but I wish it could be understood that my story is paced at the lengths and times I feel appropriate. Much time and thought is put into each and every one, not only by me, but my dreamteam (I do not feel it’s right to them either). I don’t know what else to say on this. Perhaps, I can suggest for time’s sake that you read piece by piece when there /is/ time? As for the progress, I have tagged this story as progressive love and stated many times that it is going to be a long journey. Even I get impatient sometimes, but this is how the story goes. And it will continue to progress slowly. I ask you to bear with me. And if you’re unable, then I respect this and I wish you the best of luck and much happiness. Anyway, I know the majority of you are absolute sweethearts, and I am so, so grateful to each and every one of you. So please, do not take this in the wrong way, but I’ve been considering taking the fic down simply because I am not capable of handling negativity. I’m sorry for this. I will try to stick it out, and I know there will still be negativity, that is simply how these things work, but keep in mind that I try my best and there is only so much I can do. Anyway, I love you all, you’re the best. Thank you for everything. Here’s the chapter :) I hope it’s a relieved change from the last two.  
> As always, endless thanks to you guys.  
> Also, I am dedicating this chapter (and previous ones) to my wonderful Beta, [bestBetaeva!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) who has been through it all with me for so long now. She’s motivated me, supported me, kept me from acting irrationally, and urged me to stay strong and keep this story going. Without her this story wouldn’t have come this far along. Without her, it might not be here today. And I think that deserves more praise than anything else. As more than the best Beta, she is the loveliest friend. Thank you, Miles. I can’t ever say it enough. You keep this fic going. I think it should be recognised.  
> Whelp. I’ve written a bloody story in my story hahaha.  
> Tell me how it goes,  
> .xx

From then on November hurries and fades into December. School doesn’t change much, at least not to Louis’s knowledge–Harry isn’t expelled (which the Alpha claims is due to his charm, but Louis simply thinks that it’s his status with the reasoning skills), Max doesn’t speak to him again (well that’s when he returns to school) and those annoying Omega’s are still attempting to get _his_ Alpha’s attention (though it shouldn’t, this bothers Louis like nothing else–unconsciously he begins to hang on Harry’s arm, kissing him at every appropriate opportunity and sitting on his lap at lunch or during study-hall–hoping the bonded-Omega traits are enough to get them to stop trying).

A week into December Niall calls him, and the Irish boy laments into the phone. Unable to make sense of his scrambled words, worried and panicked, Louis has his Mum drive him to Niall’s, where he rushes upstairs and into the Irish lad’s bedroom (this being his third home growing up, Louis’s mapped it out perfectly, and only bumps into the hallway wall once). There, the Omega snivels in his bed, obviously curled up in the blankets as the sound's muffled.

“Ni…” Louis breathes helplessly–he hasn’t heard Niall this upset since before meeting Josh all those years ago. Crawling into bed, Louis gathers the crying boy into his arms, and under the comfort Niall begins to cry in earnest, burying his wet, burning face at the slope of Louis’s throat. “Ni, what’s wrong? What happened? Did something happen with…with Josh?”

“I…I’m s-s-s-so fuckin’ upset,” the Irish boy manages between unsteady breaths. “I…I kn-know I’m being bratty b-b-but I’ve been w-waiting s-s-so long! And n-now I…I have to wait another _month._ An-And I don’t know how the fuck I’m gonna tell Josh!”

Gentle, Louis strokes his messy hair. “Wait. Slow down, babe. What happened?”

“Denise had the baby,” Niall whispers, and the note to his voice causes Louis’s heart to constrict in sympathy as understanding finds him. “Premature. I mean he’s healthy…but they don’t want to risk traveling in the cold and especially not when the wee things so susceptible to sickness. A-And I re-refuse to go through with this c-c-ceremony unless they’re all here. I’m so happy and relieved the babe is okay and healthy and his name’s Theodore. B-But I’m s-s-ad that I have to wait. Does that make me a sh-shit person?”

“No,” Louis murmurs fiercely, clutching the thin boy closer. “Of course not, Ni. You’ve been waiting a long, long time. I know it sucks, babe, but it’s only a little longer. Think of this as more preparation time. I mean forever’s a long time, yeah? Of course you’re happy the babe is alright, you don’t have to justify yourself to me, Niall. I understand.”

Against him, the tension drains from Niall’s body as the boy giggles stuffily. “You always know w-what to say, Lou.” _Not at all–why does everyone think I’m some sort of genius? I can barely understand myself…_

“Feel better?” he asks quietly instead.

“Yeah,” the Irish boy mumbles. “Jus’ a bit sad. And dreading Josh’s reaction.”

“Ugh,” Louis groans, mirroring Niall’s dread. “Isn’t it absolutely unbelievable? Like they’re so _dramatic!”_

“Right?!” Niall exclaims, retracting from his embrace to gush excitedly, “I’m so happy to have someone to complain and hate on them with me now! This is the best thing ever!”

“Oh, trust me,” the Omega murmurs, scrunching his face up. “I understand. And you know what else is so annoying about ‘em? They’re so arrogant!”

“Well…” Niall murmurs suggestively, nudging him. “Gatta admit it’s a bit of a turn on.”

Unable to help it, Louis grins, cheeks tinged pink by now, “A little. But don’t let them hear that, I am certainly _not_ going to stroke Harry’s inflated ego. And anyway most of the time it’s flat-out…annoying.”

“Typically the lot of them _are_ annoying. And when they…” Back and forth the two boys continue to nitpick until they’re giggling like mad, and Louis manages breathlessly, “We sound like two cranky old Omegas complaining and nagging.”

“We have to start gathering our complaints early so we never run out when we _are_ two cranky old Omegas complaining and nagging and they can’t _escape,_ ” the Irish boy whispers deviously.

Delighted, Louis laughs, “Get ‘em back for their idiocy!”

“Idiots! Pricks! Absolutely pigheaded! And–,” at this point Louis’s phones automatic voice announces a call from _‘Alphaboy’_ and Louis grins wickedly, fishing it from his pocket, “Speak of the Devil.”

“Answer, answer,” the Irish lad urges until Louis commands the device to do so.

“Hi,” Louis greets, and like the evil little shit he _is,_ Niall begins to moan in the background, “ _Oh, Lou, Lou, yes…right there…”_

“Hey,” the Alpha murmurs from the other line, then, seemingly amused, “Havin’ fun without me? Hey, Niall!”

“A bit,” Louis giggles, trying to stop the sounds as Niall continues these obnoxious moans that sound absolutely staged, _“Harder! Harder! Right…Oh yeeeaah! Love your caack!”_

“Stop, idiot,” the Omega hisses, then grabs the phone and dashes into the adjoined bathroom to escape the embarrassment, fumbling with the lock behind him as Niall laughs from the other side. “No phone sex in my bathroom!”

“Pervert!” Louis shouts back, then breathes to Harry, “Hi. Sorry.”

“Never pegged you as a top.”

“Hey,” Louis squawks, pouting, just because. “I’ll have you know I’d be an _excellent_ top.”

Over the other line, the Alpha laughs quietly, “Know what I think?”

“Nope. Nor do I want to.”

“I’m going to tell you anyway.”

“Of course you are,” Louis grumbles.

“I think,” the Alpha continues like he hadn’t spoken, “You’re unbelievably cute.”

Not expecting this, Louis mumbles, “Yeah, well, I am not cute. I am manly, and I could top if I really wanted to.”

“You keep tellin’ yourself that, babe.”

“This is going on my list,” he murmurs smugly.

“What list?”

“Exactly.”

“We can’t leave the two of you alone without there being some sort of devious plotting.”

“Damn right!” Niall screeches from outside the door–more likely than not he’s been listening in the entire time. “Be afraid, young Alpha. Very afraid!”

“Let’s not forget I have Josh’s number, Ireland!” Harry calls back, extremely self-satisfied. “And I am not above phoning him and plotting _your_ demise.”

“Oh, H, my dear, I haven’t missed you one bit! Don’t forget I have Louis in _my_ clutches as we speak and I am not above sucking his dick! I’ve done it before!”

“Oh my God, Niall, stop!” Louis shrieks, face in flames.

Through boyish laughter, the Alpha responds easily, “Coming from you, I don’t doubt it, but I think Josh would _love_ to hear this little revelation.”

“Josh can eat arse! Preferably mine.”

“Okay,” Louis hisses, torn between being completely disgusted or absolutely amused. “I’ve heard enough. Bye, Hazza, I love you, but I’ve had enough embarrassment for one afternoon.”

“Awe!!!” Niall screams at the top of his Irish lungs. “Oh my God, Louis! Louis, was that the ‘ _L’_ word!? Oh my God!”

Again, Harry laughs. “Think you jus’ broke his wee Irish heart, kitten. Best go comfort him. I’ll see you tonight.” Before he can manage to respond, the phone disconnects and Louis mutters under his breath, “Prat.”

“Lou, c’mon, open the door! Loooouuuu!”

“Niall,” Louis warns, “I refuse to open this door until I know you’re not going to pounce me! Calm down! It’s not a big deal!” _Except it is._

“O! Not a big deal?! What bullshit! You’ve been holding out on me, Louis Tomlinson. Open the fuckin’ door!”

Preparing, the Omega sighs, tucks his phone into his pocket and carefully unlocks and opens the barrier–and, not exactly _unexpected,_ is tackled to the bathroom floor as Niall shrieks excitedly into his ear, demanding to know _“everything”_ until Louis thinks this is bound to be the longest day _ever._

♥

                Playing in the snow was possibly his worst idea yet, Louis thinks, moaning miserably from where he’s curled up in bed with blankets piled over him. And he’s still _cold,_ it’s been a week since he’d gone along with Niall’s plans, convinced Harry, and tried to help make that stupid, inconsiderate snowman, _‘Frosty’_ after school. It’s been a week with the _flu_ and though he’s “supposedly” recovering Louis still feels absolutely terrible. Every so often his Mum will _dare_ to enter the sick-room and check on him, softly pressing him to eat something (even though he’s starving, living only on water, Ginger Ale, and attempted bites of crackers, the idea of _food_ makes his belly turn and threatens to bring back up the crackers he actually _managed_ ). Shaking his head feebly, Louis doesn’t speak, and falls asleep again minutes afterwards.

What feels like centuries continue this way–until one day–morning, afternoon, evening, night, he can’t possibly tell he’s been in bed so long–something soft and cool brushes Louis’s sweat-mated fringe from his face. Under the touch, the Omega shivers, and forces his achy limbs to shy from the brief chill.

“Wake up, lovely.”

“No,” he whines, voice pitifully croaky, from the lack of use, and congested, from the _sick,_ but at this point the Omega can’t find it in him to care overly much. “Leave me ‘lone…” Seconds pass before Louis changes his mind, forcing his weight-like arm to extend in the disturbances direction, “On second thought, gimme tissues.”

“Demanding little thing,” that deep, amused, oddly concerned voice murmurs, then there’s a shift, rustles, and a soft wad of tissues are being placed in his hand. Curling his achy fingers around them, Louis blows his runny, yet _stuffy_ nose, relieved to be able to _breathe_ something–mainly _sickness,_ but Harry’s scent is there too, clean, _comforting_ –until the stuffiness returns seconds later. Then, uncaringly, the boy tosses the bloody things somewhere and has every intention of falling back asleep when those cool fingers feel his forehead. “Mm. You’ve cooled down some since last time.”

Eyebrows furrowed, the Omega mumbles drowsily, “You’ve been here before?”

“I was…worried. And I couldn’t go without seeing you.”

Louis frowns, self-conscious, “No…No, H, why? Why did you do that? I look _gross._ I told Mum to tell you _not to come._ I’m _fine, ‘_ s only the flu.”

“You always look beautiful to me. And I might’ve threatened to break the door down,” the Alpha has the grace to sound sheepish.

Louis moans, then coughs dryly, hiding his face in the pillows. “I hate you. Lemme sleep.”

“No. Stay awake.”

Sniffling, Louis mumbles again, “Sleep.”

“Please, Lou,” Harry breathes in that compelling, _can’t-say-no-to-me_ voice. “Stay awake at least another five minutes. It’s been a _week_ without. And I’ve heard you speak all of three words to your Mum and that’s all. You can’t blame me for being a little desperate.”

“Desperate for your fix?” he coughs again.

“Desperate to hear your voice speaking lucid words.”

Charmed, Louis grins weakly, then tries to shake his head, but doesn’t succeed. “Fine. I have nothin’ to say but that I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck and would really like to go back to sleep.”

“Mm. I can see that. You look miserable. I’m sorry, baby.”

Louis sniffles again, purring against his frame, “’S not your fault, Haz. My stupid immune system’s betrayed me.”

Seeming to sense his need to be held, the Alpha curls protectively around him, tucking the blankets around him, then holding carefully, pressing soft kisses to his temple. More warmth than he’s felt in these past week’s ripples through him–Louis feels loved. “You’re very cute when you’re sick and whiny.”

“Nothin’ cuter than snot and sweat,” Louis agrees solemnly, huddling as close as possible with the blankets cocooning him.

“Mouthy even in sickness.”

“In sickness _and_ in health,” the Omega sighs, then remembers, “Hey!” his voice sounds cringe-worthily reedy, “Get away from me! Shoo! I’m gonna get you sick.”

“No,” Harry murmurs–Louis doesn’t even have the strength or the will to try and shuffle away. “Don’t care. Wanna be close to you. Need it. Need you. Close to me. Let me hold you. Don’t fight me. I’m feelin’ a bit…needy right now.”

“Did somethin’ happen?” he asks tentatively.

“No. Just…want you.”

Heart melting in inexplicable ways, Louis forgets his previous struggle, and sinks into the mattress, into Harry’s embrace. “You’re lucky you’re so bloody warm and it’s making me outrageously happy,” Louis slurs as his eyes slip shut again. “Othawise I’d…” _kick you out,_ he thinks, but doesn’t finish because he’s exhausted with sickness and falls asleep again in seconds.

♥

When the Omega wakes again something has changed–he’s _hot,_ on _fire,_ and sweating. Groaning, Louis shoves the masses of blankets from his body and sighs as cool, lovely air finds his body. Slumping again, the Omega realises that he’s alone now–though this disappoints him, he’s mostly relieved because he’s sweaty and his nose is runny and he’s in desperate need of a shower. _So far away,_ he thinks tiredly, and then motivates himself with thoughts of brushing the foul taste of sick from his mouth, and feeling _clean_ and refreshed and then being able to come back to bed and sleep _again._

Sitting up, Louis fights the dizzy-spell that comes over him, breathing even inhales and exhales until he’s standing, keeping his hands braced on the furniture so he doesn’t collapse (he feels _that_ weak). Once he’s managed to retrieve a fresh towel, clothes (he can’t recall what he’s grabbed) and has made it into the bathroom, Louis allows himself to sit on the counterpane and blindly grabs the only incased toothbrush in the cabinet (specifically chosen so he’d never mistakenly use someone else’s). With unsteady hands, Louis brushes fiercely at his mouth–does this twice until the taste is replaced with mint and he’s mouth-washed even more times. Sighing, sweating again, Louis rests his head against the wall, whimpering in exertion.

Minutes are spent like this until he’s ready to undress, use the bathroom and shower. And it takes outrageously longer to accomplish these tasks, but what must be an hour or more later, Louis’s back in his bedroom, blessedly clean and changed and _dog-tired._ Who knew those simple morning-methods would prove so _difficult?_

Parched, but unwillingly to even think about leaving the room again, Louis curls up at the window-seat (as the bed is still infected with illness and he is _not_ going to sleep there again).

It’s not even minutes that pass before he’s asleep again.

Giggles. And shuffling. “Curly, Curly!” little, shrilly whispers. “Come, look. Shhh. Boo’s sleepin’.”

More soft words, excited agreements, fading scuffles–then there’s one soft _click_ (must be his door, Louis thinks groggily) and muted footsteps before someone crouches beside him, nosing at his cheek. “Why’re you sleepin’ here, kitten?”

Louis forces his eyes open, mumbling into the darkness, “Bed’s infected with sick.”

“And how are you feelin’ today?” Harry asks quietly.

“Tired. Achy,” the Omega supplies, then smiles softly, “But, considering I got up and showered and everything, a bit better.”

“Progress,” the Alpha murmurs, then feels his forehead. “Mmm. A lot of progress. No more fever.” Sinking into Harry’s touch, Louis sighs, eyes fluttering shut again, “Can I sleep now?”

“No. You’ve slept enough these past weeks.”

Louis pouts, then starts to whine in his raucous voice, “But Hazza ‘m still _sick_ and _tired_ and–,”

Without permission the Alpha lifts him from underneath the thighs and instinctively his arms circle Harry’s shoulders, burying his face in the slope of the Alphas throat. “Noo,” he moans, sniffling. “No, stop it, lemme sleep!”

“You whine too much, love.”

“Please,” Louis whispers softly, curling his fingers around the hairs at the nape of his neck, “I wanna sleep, Haz. Please.”

In response Harry’s steps falter, and Louis hides his smug smile– _get’s him every time._

“Too bad,” the Alpha murmurs coolly.

Stunned, the Omega whines again, then crosses his arms, letting the Alpha bear most of his weight in hopes that he will become too heavy (this doesn’t seem to faze Harry as his arms simply tighten, steady as ever, damn him), sniffling again. “What is so bloody important that I have to stay awake for?”

“Well,” Harry starts casually, starting down the stairway now, “Jay and the girls are setting up the tree today. And you haven’t eaten a proper meal in days. And have lost a worrying amount of weight. On top of this, I think you need some fresh air because it’s unbelievably hot and stuffy in your bedroom.”

“Oh,” Louis mumbles, and then smiles sheepishly. “Oh, okay, that’s acceptable then.”

“Glad I’ve earned your approval, Oh-So-Wise-One.”

“As you should be,” the Omega responds pertly before resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. When they’ve entered the living area, Lottie voices dryly, “So he lives!”

Louis pokes his tongue out in her direction. “Girls!” his Mother calls from the general direction of the kitchen. “Don’t get to close to your brother!”

Pouting, the Omega curls up in Harry’s lap when they’re seated on the sofa, but the girls complain enough about these “rules” that he doesn’t feel too bad. From there the day (considering it was three in the afternoon) passes breezily as the girls decorate the three, giggling and prattling on and on about nonsense Louis doesn’t manage to really listen to as he _knows_ Harry is staring at him because he’s facing the Alpha all the same. Lottie comments in disgust about the _‘lovebirds’_ which Louis chooses to ignore as his Mother laughs and starts in with her until the girls are making gallant attempts to get Harry’s attention again. Meanwhile the Alpha answers their every question _‘Harry does this look good? Should it go here? Which colour do you like best?’_ and comments, _‘Looks lovely anyway, lovelies. Whichever colour you prefer, I like the ones that match your brothers eyes’_ at the moment distractedly as Louis pulls ridiculous faces, knowing he still has his Alpha’s undivided attention.

“You really do have a staring problem,” Louis whispers, chewing on his bottom lip, compelled to keep his eyes open.

“Your Mum thinks so too. She’s watchin’ us weirdly,” the Alpha breathes back conspiratorially. “Being honest I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Louis grins, then sniffles again. “Where’s the mistletoe when you need it?”

“Alright!” Lottie claims happily, interrupting them. “Nearly finished! We need the star. Lou, that’s your cue.”

Delighted (this has been _his cue_ for years, the only participation he’s allowed), Louis hops up, then sways a bit, stumbling, but remains upright as Harry stands seconds behind, arm looping his waist. “Careful, there, Lou,” Jay says fretfully.

“’M fine, Mum. Harry’s got me,” Louis soothes, then raises his face to the Alpha, grinning sunnily, “Wanna help me?”

Beside him, Harry tenses, seemingly uncertain as Louis continues quietly, “C’mon, baby, we’re only putting up the star.”

“’S not that…Just…I’ve never done this before.” At this, Louis’s chest constricts, and his heart aches. _My poor Alphaboy._

“Well,” he breathes firmly, keeping the sympathy from his voice. “There’s a first time for everything.” Then, as to make sure it’s not up for discussion, “Can I have the star, please, Lottie?”

When he’s holding the ornament, Louis tugs Harry forward, letting the Alpha guide him right until he’s in front of what must be the tree, murmuring, “Don’t let me ruin this, H. Lift me and help me place it at the top, yeah?”

“Alright,” his voice is gravelly as those hands grip Louis’s hips and help him up. “Just lower it, kitten.” Trusting him, the Omega does so, and fixes the star at the very top, then smiles down at him, chirping, “All set.”

On his feet again, Louis teases quietly, “And that, my darling Alphaboy, is how you put the star on the tree. ‘S not rocket science ya know, even the blind can do it.”

And he tries to step away, but arms chain around his waist, holdings below his shoulder blades so they’re close. At the sudden proximity, Louis’s breath catches in his throat as Harry speaks, “I don’t know about the others, but you can do anything.”

Of course, Louis thinks as his heart flutters in his chest. Of course Harry has to be sweet and lovely during sweet and lovely times. _Of bloody course._ Overcome by the enormity of emotion surging through him, all Louis can manage to say, breathlessly, “I love you.”

"Ewwww!"

"Yuck!"

"I know," Lottie follows up, then begins to make obnoxious gagging noises, "It's disgusting."

Cheeks warm, only now recalling their audience, Louis bites his bottom lip, then opts to hide his face at Harry’s throat. Laughing, the Alpha coos to Lottie, “Take note on what moves to make when you bring your boy or girl home.”

Lottie snorts, unconvinced. “’Cause you’re soooo smooth.”

“Awe, c’mon, Lotts. It’s quite sweet,” his Mum comments, “Young love and all that.”

With a heartfelt groan, the Omega nips at Harry’s throat, scolding, “Don’t encourage them.”

“I know, Mum,” his eldest younger sister moans, “That’s the problem! The sweetness is making me want to puke.”

“Puke butterflies,” Louis can’t help but comment.

“And _I’m_ encouraging them,” Harry mutters–the vibrations of his voice are felt on Louis’s lips and sends tell-tale heat through his veins as a shiver runs up his spine.

“You _are,_ ” the Omega states, ignoring the sensation, poking him in the side, “You started it therefore you’re held accountable.”

“Ooooh,” Lottie teases, instigating. “Look at ‘im go, Mum! That’s right! You go, show ‘im who’s in charge!”

Grinning, the Omega steps out of Harry’s embrace to shoot a thumbs-up at Lottie. Settling in his previous spot, Louis murmurs smugly to Harry, “And you said I couldn’t be a top.”

“What’s a top?” Phoebe asks curiously.

“That’s when you decide who gets to shove–,” Lottie starts mischievously.

“Alright, that’s quite enough, Charlotte,” his Mum cuts in sharply.

“What?!” she sounds sweetly innocent–completely staged. “I was going to say who gets to shove cake in whose mouth.”

Louis flushes as Harry sits beside him. Without asking, Louis sprawls out on his belly, resting his head on Harry’s thighs and inhaling stuffily, “I think it’s clear who shoves the cake in who’s mouth, and who wears the pants in this relationship.” It’s a whisper–he’d rather not have _this_ conversation heard by the children or his Mother.

Shifting his weight, when Harry responds his voice is raspy, nearly inaudible, “I think it is clear who gets their cake eaten and who wears the panties.”

Grinning dopily, Louis wriggles his bum, also shifting his weight to make it less noticeable that he’s being a suggestive tease. “Or that.”

When there’s no response to that, Louis shuts his eyes, his family’s conversations soothing him into resting. They’re entertaining, arguing whether waffles or pancakes are better (Louis prefers waffles), what way to take their eggs and many breakfast debates (Louis doesn’t understand how this even came up but).

“What about cake or _cupcakes?_ ” Fliss asks quietly.

“Cake! Chocolate cake!” Phoebe claims.

“Hmm,” Daisy thinks over this, then asks excitedly, “Curly, whattyathink? I actually prefer cupcakes.”

“I think,” Harry says, resting his hand on the small of Louis’s back. And suddenly the Omega feels more awake, breathing shallowly through his mouth as the Alpha’s fingers stroke at his skin. “I agree. Cupcakes. Vanilla is the best.”

“See!” Daisy erupts, delighted. “Harry agrees with me! So I’m right!”

“How does that make you right?” Lottie asks, teasing. “Harry, over there, is _very_ influenced, children. But that’s for another time, when you’re a bit older.”

“Can we move on from this topic?” Louis grumbles, squirming in the Alpha’s lap. “How about we talk about…school?”

“Wonderful idea, Louis,” Jay says disapprovingly. “Let’s talk about how I’ve received my first C from Miss Daisy.” _Uh oh,_ the Omega thinks, regretting the suggestion.

A chorus of groans consumes the room, though when it’s over, Harry asks, “Why’d you have to ruin the fun, kitten?”

“Because, Hazza,” Louis breathes back, smiling sweetly, “I think school is much more interesting.”

“Since when have _you_ found school interesting?” Lottie snorts, which Louis chooses to ignore as Harry continues, “You’re right–I’ll remember this...next time.”

Huffing, Louis shuts his eyes, and promises he’s going to keep his mouth shut next time, soothing _back_ into rest. From there, Harry stills, but his voice is the one Louis listens to most attentively–cooing to the girls, going back and forth with Lottie, humoring his Mother. Sighing low in his throat, the Omega stretches his arms and relaxes again, humming contentedly when the hand that isn’t on his lower back closes around one of Louis’s hands. It’s then Louis decides he really loves Harry’s voice, it’s one of those sounds that comforts one to sleep or sends warmth through ones veins or butterflies through their tummy. It’s one of those unforgettable voices–which suits Louis perfectly as his memory is perfected so when Harry’s moved on– _stop,_ his Omega hisses, startling him, _stop doing that._

 _I’m trying,_ Louis responds inwardly, _but it’s only realistic, and I can’t let myself forget that–_

Frowning, the boy rubs his nose against the rough material of Harry’s trousers. Just when he’s quieted the muddled thoughts his Mum announces dinner’s ready from in the kitchen. The room empties in rushing footsteps and voices, then they’re alone and Louis muffles his groan into Harry’s leg.

“C’mon, sleepyhead, wake up,” the Alpha convinces gently. Smiling, Louis stretches his still achy-muscles, then sniffles, “Nope. Tired.”

“Yes, the Omega is going to wake up and eat because he’s lost quite a bit of weight and needs sustenance.”

“Fine, _Mummy,_ ” Louis mutters, sitting up and placing his hands over his eyes to alleviate his growing headache. As the Alpha rises to a stance, Louis shakes away the tired that’s taken refuge in his bones, and stands as well, but wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, nosing at his collar. As those arms come around his waist, Harry buries his nose in Louis’s hair, and murmurs quietly, “Don’t get sick again.”

Louis smiles, wanting to roll his eyes. “Like I can control that. Like mostly _everything_ , I have no control.”

“Well, don’t get sick again until I can _at least_ take proper care of you.”

“Okay,” the Omega breathes back, then mocks impishly, “Though I don’t think you could take care of me to save your life.”

Growling playfully, Harry’s hands settle on his hips as he leans down, and Louis’s hands cup his face, grinning. “I would take such good care of you.”

And like the silly, besotted boy he is, Louis hopes that maybe he’ll stay sick a bit longer. And like the observant, brilliant boy his Alpha is, Harry seems to read this on his features as he laughs huskily, kissing the corner of his mouth, “Don’t even think ‘bout it.”

Louis’s fingers gentle, tracing his features as the Omega feigns innocence, “I have no idea what you mean.”

Stumbling, they’re making their way towards the dining room, but Harry pauses, then asks softly, “So you weren’t thinking about going out in the cold again with the sole purpose of getting sick?”

 _Not exactly._ Even so, he flushes, shaking his head innocently.

“Don’t worry, kitten,” Harry breathes, showing his fringe out of his face, distancing them a fraction. “I’m going to protect you from all around you. And I’m going to protect you from yourself.” _What about protecting me from you?_

Sucking on his bottom lip, the Omega shakes his head again, going to respond when someone comes scampering at them, knocking into Harry, then tugging at his arm (which is connected to the hand stroking Louis’s face). “Curly!” it’s Daisy, who sounds demanding, but outrageously shy all the same. “Will you sit next to me?”

Louis grins, taking his hands back to lean down and pat his youngest sister’s head playfully. “He’s all yours, love.” Leaving them, the Omega goes into the dining area and takes his usual seat beside Fliss (she’s claimed the seat right of him since _forever,_ which means _everything_ to Louis) who inches her seat closer despite their ‘ _personal-space-when-sick-distance’,_ “Feelin’ better?” his sister asks as something is placed before him on the table.

“Much, thanks lovely,” the Omega murmurs back quietly–Fliss and Phoebe have always been the more quiet ones, meanwhile Daisy is outspoken charisma, Lottie is sarcastic, fond insults, and Louis is simply loud, loud, and loud (at home at least). “And how have you been while I was lying in what was claimed my deathbed?”

Fliss giggles, then whispers, “Curly is staring at you.”

Leaning close, Louis whispers back, “Is he now?”

Giggling again, Fliss cups his ear and continues, “Yep. Dais looks upset ‘cause he’s not payin’ attention to her anymore. He’s _always_ staring at you. He’s in _looooveeee._ ”

Slightly taken aback by this, Louis blinks once, then beams, wanting excessively to hug his little sister and never let go. “You think so?”

“Mhm,” Fliss leans back, then orders, “Ask ‘im.”

Uncomfortable, the Omega starts to decline, “I don’t think that’d be–,” _but,_ “Ask me what?” Harry interjects from across the table. Around them the others quiet, seemingly interesting. There are multiple pairs of eyes on them now–probably more so on Harry as the girls are quite literally as in love with him as Louis is. Irresistible, charming, _cheeky,_ doesn’t come close to any Alpha, but Harry Styles.

“If you’re in love with Lou!” Fliss chirps informatively. Louis flushes hot, then lowers his eyes and fumbles with his spoon, mumbling, “You don’t have to answer that.”

“Well,” the Alpha murmurs quietly, filling the awkward, tense silence. “It’s safe to say everyone in this room quite adores your brother.”

Tracing the bowl that holds his soup, Louis smiles softly, blushing furiously as the girls burst into histrionic _“awe’s”_ and _“what about me, Haz?”_ until his Mother declares there will be no dessert until their dinner is finished. Right away, the girls start hastily at their soup, slurping and humming until Louis is smiling so wide his cheeks ache and it’s hard to even take more than three, messy sips of the delicious soup despite his belly’s desperation.

Underneath the table Harry plays footsies with him again, and it’s also distracting, but Louis manages to finish (mostly due to his Mother’s watchful gaze and pushy comments), sipping continuously at Ginger Ale until he’s ready to curl up in Harry’s lap again and fall back asleep.

But, duty calls. And Louis helps Lottie gather dishes, handing them to her (it’s their usual routine, Louis gathers, Lottie delivers, Mum washes) and is a bit surprised that Harry’s helping his Mum with the dishes (drying them, apparently). Rapidly his heart flutters, especially when his Mum claims jokingly, “He’s a keeper, this one.”

“I know,” Louis sighs dreamily, sitting at the kitchen stool with his face in his hands as he listens to them converse, interjecting here and there until they’ve finished and Jay is bustling with excitement, “I have _tons!_ Let me bring them out!”

Zoning back to reality, Louis raises his eyebrows questioningly. Taking the seat beside him, Harry explains smugly, “Baby photos.”

Horror comes over him as the Omega groans, “Oh, God…” then hisses accusingly, “You brought them up _didn’t you?_ ”

“Guilty,” the Alpha agrees, obviously amused as Louis narrows his eyes, threatening, “I’ll get you back for this, you know.”

“You can try,” Harry allows, unfazed. “But I doubt you’ll succeed.” _Challenge accepted, my darling Alphaboy. Challenge. Accepted._ Smiling sweetly, Louis murmurs softly, “Try me.”

“Here we are!” Jay returns to the kitchen island, stacking what must be the photo albums out before them. “Let’s start at the very beginning! Just out the womb!” Taking the seat beside Harry, his Mother promptly begins to embarrass him (probably for the best that he can’t see the pictures…then again his imagination is getting the best of him now), cooing and telling stories that Harry seems to enjoy more than allowed. Put out, the Omega sets out to seek revenge, slipping from his seat and wandering to the living area again to flatten out on his belly near where the girls play on the carpet.

“Hey, girls,” Louis sighs sadly, stressing his frown. It works, in seconds they’re demanding to know what’s wrong and why. Fighting an altogether pleased smile, the Omega mumbles desolately, “’S nothing…Just, Hazza is sad because he hasn’t gotten a make-over yet…but he doesn’t want to say anything. He’s _embarrassed,_ ” Louis whispers, heart swelling with satisfaction when they giggle.

“That won’t do,” Daisy says firmly.

“Absolutely not,” Phoebe agrees.

“You have to help him…” Louis implores. “You two are the only ones I trust with such an important…task.” _My precious keys to revenge._

“Don’t worry, Lou,” they say in unison, “We’ll help.”

Surely his answering smile lights up his entire face as the Omega answers, “You two are the best. You don’t know how happy you’ve made me.”

Gushing with excitement his precious sister’s rise to their feet and promptly scurry towards the kitchen. “Curly! Curly! Don’t be sad! We’re going to make it better! Our make-over’s are the absolute _best!_ ”

Louis bursts into delighted peals of laughter, not even bothering to stifle the sound as footsteps start hurrying upstairs–the girls probably dragging Harry upstairs to their make-up station.

“You are one evil little shit,” Lottie says, flattening beside him and knocking their shoulders, “And I love it.”

Grinning wickedly, the Omega suggests, “You should choose the colours, dear sister of mine.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Lottie murmurs, then gets to her feet, bringing Louis with her. Upstairs (having followed all the ruckus), Lottie carries him to the doorway of Daisy’s and Phoebe’s room, where they lean against the doorframe.

“Lottie! Look, look! Isn’t this colour lovely!?” Daisy asks–seeking praise.

“It will go _perfectly_ with his complexion, Dais. Lovely choice,” his eldest younger sister agrees softly, then whispers to Louis, “Its hot pink.” Like Louis can manage to differentiate the shades of pink.

Clamping a hand over his mouth, Louis giggles, extremely pleased with how things have worked out. The two set to work on Harry who only mumbles polite, _“thanks”_ and gentle praises. Too soon the two grow bored with the process and return downstairs to join their Mother who’s currently working on tea and cookies. The kitchen smells heavenly (well what he manages to smell–he’s still quite congested) as Louis sighs.

“That poor, unsuspecting lad,” his Mother tsks sympathetically, but there’s an extremely pleased note to her voice. “Subjected to your devious schemes. Well, at least the girls are enjoying themselves with their new guinea-pig.”

“Better him than us,” Lottie agrees, stealing a cookie (Louis assumes as his Mother scolds, _“wait until they’re all done!”_ ).

Together, the three keep up meaningless conversation, his Mother musing over when to start searching for the remainder of the Christmas shopping and Lottie teasing about having to “ _check her calendar,_ ” to which Louis comments dryly, _“what calendar? You’re a loser with no friends,_ ” and his Mother follows up, _“at least she’s a pretty loser with no friends,_ ” until Lottie is complaining that the two tag-team too often.

“Elders privileges, my dear,” Louis says smugly.

“Elders,” Lottie scoffs, “I think mentally I am at least ten years older than you. You can’t even say the word _dick._ ”

“I don’t even want to _hear_ that word, Lottie,” his Mother says disapprovingly, though there’s a note of amusement in her voice.

Louis smirks, “Dick. Cock. Arousal.”

“Oh my God!” Lottie snickers. “Who even calls it _arousal?_ ” _I do,_ Louis thinks, flushing to the tips of his ears, and grumbling, “It’s less…vulgar.”

“So is _birdie,_ but you don’t hear anyone but Mum calling it _that_.”

Entire face heated, Louis remains quiet.

“I rest my case,” Lottie says smugly.

“You do that,” his Mum murmurs, “I don’t want to hear another crude word in my presence.”

And Louis can practically _hear_ Lottie rolling her eyes. A while passes like this before the muted footsteps of the girls start down the stairs (obviously having smelt the dessert and finish Harry’s make-over) and they’re speaking elatedly, the conversation goes back and forth so quick and shifty that Louis can’t manage to keep track only catches, _“very pretty,”_ and _“beautifulest prince,”_ until they’ve entered and go straight for Jay.

Of course Lottie is first to break out in laughter beside him, muttering between giggles, “Oh this is _good. Real good._ I have…to…get a…picture…for Tumblr!”

And her laughter is infectious as Louis begins to snicker into his hand, though he sobers rather quickly when Harry’s gaze, burning and intense, pins him still. Biting his bottom lip, Louis keeps his gaze lowered, fingers toying with the edge of his shirt.

“I look _fabulous,_ ” the Alpha murmurs, voice light and casual; Louis knows better than to believe he’s not at least a bit irritated– _success._ “Though I do need to use the bathroom. Lou, will you show me the way?” Like he doesn’t already _know._

Sipping hastily at his tea one last time, Louis nods, “Um. Sure.” When Jay doesn’t comment ( _traitor),_ the Omega stands, then starts out of the kitchen, muttering quietly, “This way.”

Silent, the Alpha follows as Louis stumbles clumsily up the steps until they’re in the hallway. Desperate to escape, the Omega opens the bathroom door and then tries to start back down the hall, towards the stairs–doesn’t even make it three feet. In seconds he’s drawn the opposite direction, hustled into the bathroom where the door shuts behind him. And he’s fixed between the wall and the solid of Harry’s body, the atmosphere charged, electric as both his hands are gripped, vice-like, in one of Harry’s, pinned above his head. Attempting to seem unaffected, unperturbed, Louis asks breathily, “Is there a reason you’re in my personal space?”

Without responding, the Alpha dips down, tongue tracing Louis’s bottom lip in that teasing way. So eager, Louis goes to bring his hands into Harry’s curls, but finds his hands are still confined. The current spikes as the Alpha purrs, “I want you.” And his hips are against Louis’s belly as the other hand splays over his lower back, arching him into the bulge tenting his trousers.

As delicious heat begins to simmer in his belly, Louis’s lashes flutter, parting his mouth to release shallow breaths. But when he tugs at Harry’s confines, the Alpha continues, tightening his grip, “Ah ah. Hold still.”

“Kiss me,” the Omega demands breathlessly.

“I don’t think I should,” the Alpha teases, nosing at his cheek, “Perhaps you can persuade me.”

A warm, lovely flush spreads over Louis’s body as the Omega licks his lips, arching his body, wriggling his hips, tempting him. Against him, the Alpha inhales sharply. “Please, kiss me.”

Distancing them another, excruciating fraction, Harry asks, amused though his voice is so many octaves deeper, “That all you got, kitten?”

Frustrated, _needy,_ Louis lurches forward, and it seems luck’s on his side tonight as his mouth makes flush contact with Harry’s. Arching against him, the Omega moans softly, lashes fluttering shut, parting his mouth in welcome. Growling, the hand above his bum urges him tight against Harry, but as the Alpha’s tongue possess his mouth, the contact isn’t enough–the hand moves to grip his thigh, hitching him upwards so Louis’s legs are tight around his waist, begging him in. Tugging again, Louis whines, wanting to touch as Harry’s mouth travels down his throat, leaving bruising kisses, so close to his sensitive spot. Shivers run up Louis’s spine, anticipating the sensation, the heat starting to pool in his abdomen. But before reaching there, the Alpha returns to his mouth, canines tugging at his lower lip–which Louis whines in protest at though it’s ignored.

The hand at his thigh travels all the same, squeezing his hip, then dragging his T-shirt up, caressing the soft of his belly, feeling his way through the dips and shallows of his skin, the touch sending shivers through him. Without permission, _needing it,_ Louis ruts against him, the friction spreading white-hot sensation everywhere.

Though their mouths are still connected, they’re not really kissing, more so breathing each other in urgently–Harry’s breathing rough against his mouth as little mewls, and feeble, _“uh, uh, uh,”s_ tumble passed his lips. The adrenaline is scorching in his veins, but knowing this has to be quick, the Omega sighs, _“yesyesyes,”_ when Harry surges against him, controlling the gyrating rhythm of his hips as his tongue glides and dips hungrily in Louis’s mouth. And it _is_ swift–the blaze in his belly spreads _everywhere_ until ecstasy is all Louis knows, his body bows as he tips his head back, into the wall, though the sound that forms in his throat is muffled by Harry’s mouth as the Alpha brings his face back, tonguing at his mouth.

Panting, Louis slumps, aftershocks racking through him as his heart continues to race, the wetness seeping through his trousers. In these seconds his hands are released and the Alpha untangles his legs, breathing huskily, “Fuck. You’re so fuckin’ good, baby. Would let me fuck you anywhere.” Without giving him a chance to respond, the Alpha continues, “Go change. Only your trousers. Wipe your face too, there’s make-up. And then go back downstairs.”

Panicked, but still orgasm-ridden, Louis fumbles fuzzily, “Wha’? No, Hazza, I can’t…’M goin’ to make it obvious.”

“No, you’re going to do as I say. Go downstairs and talk to Lottie like nothing happened, alright? That’s an order.”

Louis places one trembling hand over his eyes. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Because,” the Alpha breathes, coming up behind him, mouth brushing his ear, “I need to cum otherwise it’s going to be painfully obvious I’m sporting a hard-on.” A purr starts soft in Louis’s throat at the Omega melts, turning to stretch up and kiss him, wanting to say _use me instead_ as Harry groans low in his throat, kissing him back, “Go, baby. I don’t want to add any more time to our grounding.”

Upset, Louis kisses him chastely, then pouts and leaves the bathroom to hurry into his bedroom where he cleans himself and changes, wiping his face lastly. Downstairs again, Louis is grateful that nobody pays any mind to him whatsoever; in fact the girls are effectively distracting his Mother. Taking his vacant seat beside Lottie again, the Omega tries to calm his racing heart, hands tangled in front of him on the counterpane.

“You were gone awhile,” Lottie comments slyly, nudging him. _Oh, God._

Louis swallows, then lies awkwardly, “Um, I went back to my room to give him something…”

Lottie giggles girlishly. “Oh you gave him somethin’ alright. You’ve got some make-up,” she reaches over and wipes at his jaw, “There.” In this moment, Louis wishes he could disappear.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, burning hot with embarrassment.

“Want some cookies?” his eldest younger sister asks, kindly redirecting the conversation. Though his appetite’s disappeared and he’s more than sleepy now (his orgasm having turned his blood warm and his entire body loose) the Omega accepts, nibbling on the chocolate-chip cookie (rather than his bottom lip) gratefully. It’s minutes that pass before Harry returns; taking the seat beside him as Lottie promptly wanders away, giving them privacy (Louis decides she’s his favourite). “Hi,” Louis breathes shyly, unable to lift his gaze now.

“Hey,” his voice is warm, husky.

“Did you…?” Louis trails, blushing furiously. “You know.”

“I did,” Harry answers, unaffected, and amused. Completely shameless.

“Oh,” Louis whispers, biting his bottom lip.

“Yeah. Know who I was thinkin’ of?”

“Mr. Lerwick?” he asks innocently, aware of Harry’s extreme dislike for the year thirteen History teacher.

“Jesus,” Harry groans, seemingly horrified. “He’s such a prick.”

Louis giggles, then breathes, “You like his…prick.”

“When did you pick up on Niall’s pervertedness?”

Smiling sweetly, the Omega shrugs. “Tell me who you were thinkin’ of then, H.”

“You,” the Alpha breathes, stroking his throat now, nearing his bonding spot. And his Omega whines, bothered, _why didn’t he put his mouth here earlier?_

“What ‘bout me?” Louis tries casually despite how his breathing becomes shallow.

“How pretty you look when you’re pinned against the wall getting’ yourself off on my cock.”

Louis flushes, then admits breathily, “Felt…really good.”

“A quickie,” his laugh is hushed. “We’ll have more of those. Just not with your family within hearing range.”

Louis hides his blazing face in his hands, butterflies fluttering in his belly at the thought. “Okay.”

When it’s time for the girls to go to bed, they demand a bedtime story which Harry reads them flawlessly before they’re in the living room again, the telly playing some film that Jay and Lottie are engrossed in while Louis is in his own world, listening to Harry’s every gradual word, and tracing the Alphas features with his fingers until Harry declares he’s leaving. All the while, Louis holds him around the waist so they’re stumbling to the front door, and Harry’s chuckling. Louis pretends to be put out by this and starts to storm the other way, but doesn’t make it as the Alpha grips his wrist and carries him back in so Louis stumbles into him. And then they’re kissing, mouths gentle and sweet, over and over until Louis’s head is swimming with it and they’re grinning against each other’s mouths. Harry’s fingers curling on either side of his face.

“You taste like cookies,” Harry claims against his mouth minutes into their continuous kisses, “And I’m the cookie monster.”

Dissolving into delighted giggles, Louis kisses him hard, their mouths flush and affectionate and soft as he presses close. “Worst pick up line ever.”

“Gatta take the bad with the good,” Harry breathes playfully–those words hold more depth than either care to delve into in this moment.

“Always,” Louis breathes back, their noses rubbing in an Eskimo kiss as the Omega catches his breath. And it’s not something Louis can explain, but he’s so in love it’s latched onto his heart and seeps into his every word and probably lurks in his eyes and _he’s so in love._

“Are you going to let me go anytime soon, kitten?”

“No,” Louis grins, tightening his arms around Harry’s neck, clinging to him, “Never ever.”

“If I didn’t know any better, little one, I’d say you were trying to keep me here all for yourself.”

Louis nods, leaving kitten-kisses over his jaw. “I am. It’s been my master plan all along. Get you to fall in love with me so you’ll never be able to leave.”

“Mmm.” One hand traces down his spine. “Say I buy that, why me?”

At this, Louis pauses, then smiles, satisfied as his heart flutters. “You _want_ me to say it, don’t you?”

“Say what?” Oddly enough the Alpha honestly sounds confused. “That you don’t really mean it? If so then no. Not at all.”

“No, Harry. That I love you,” the Omega whispers against his throat, scattering more kisses.

“Do you?” _I’m in love with what we are, not what we should be, and the feeling won’t fade._

“Do I?” the Omega parrots, untwining his arms to back away, hands tangled behind his back as he creates space between them. “Goodnight, H.”

“You’re not going to answer?” there’s a trace of anxiety in his voice that causes Louis’s heart to constrict. _Say it,_ his Omega begs, _don’t let him forget._

Louis bites his lip, lowers his eyes, and breathes self-consciously, “I don’t think you really want me to.”

“I do,” Harry whispers–here he is again, Louis thinks, the vulnerable Harry that only he knows.

“I love you,” Louis says gently, squeezing his eyes shut because he is so stupidly in love, saying it even when Harry won’t. Because he wants to Harry to believe it and feel the same–and right now both aren’t possible. When the Alpha exhales a curse, Louis swallows, shrugging helplessly, “See? I know you don’t like to hear me say it.”

Without missing a beat, Harry moves so he’s towering over him, tipping his face in two fingers. “It’s not that,” he murmurs urgently. “It’s not that I don’t want to hear the words…I always want to hear them. I always want to know that you haven’t changed your mind.”

Louis swallows, then admits one his most profound fears, “I won’t change my mind. I love you. Just don’t want to say the words so much that you feel obligated to say them back or…or I scare you off. I don’t want you to leave me…”

“Don’t,” the Alpha says surely. “Don’t feel like that. I know you, Lou. I know you’re not pressuring me or whatever. I know those words aren’t…they’re not meant to trap me or somethin’. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Louis sighs, then rests his head on Harry’s shoulder, letting those words and this fascinating scent comfort him enough that a smile plays on his lips.

“For the record, I don’t scare easy.”

“Good,” the Omega breathes sincerely, “Because I love you.” _And I love how you make me feel like the only boy in the world. In your world._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? Thoughts?:)


	21. Part Twenty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys...You guys have made me cry so many happy tears. And have reminded me of why this story is worth it. Every comment I received last chapter has touched me. Has given me more reason to smile. Has reminded me that I have more amazing people cheering for me than I have others bringing me down. And it means everything to me. Thank you guys...This one is all for you. For being so amazing to me, for sticking around, for respecting me as much I respect you. I couldn't do it without you all. I am grateful to every one of you. Please, never forget it.  
> All the love is out to you all. You've started the reconstruction of my happy place. I can never thank you enough...I needed the reminders. Always here, Dani .xxx
> 
> (as always, I could never forget my lovely Beta, Miles, who is ALWAYS ALWAYS here for me and this fic, [bestBetaeva!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) Love you, hun! Couldn't do it without YOU! You keep me and this story going as much as anything else .xxx )
> 
> Tell me how it goes!  
> .xxxx

And so December goes on–seeming to understand his Omega’s inability to go without Harry, his Mum allows the Alpha over (only when she or the girls are in to monitor them–which, at first, Louis had grimaced at, but decided to take what he can get–“beggars can’t be choosers, lovely,” the Alpha had reminded him on the night Louis stalked into the room, completely put out by the so-called-compromise). Well, his Alpha is always right, and Louis soon decides he’s content with simply being able to hold Harry’s hand, having the Alpha close to him, providing the sense of safety he craves. With each passing day the solid shield weakens as Harry grows comfortable with his family; and it’s an incredible change, an amazing feeling to be able to tag-team on Lottie, to mess about like the young boys they are, to take the girls out on walks (without his Mother), being able to play with them at the park, or in the living room, or being able to sooth them into sleep with bedtime stories…

Though much to Louis’s disappointment these changes aren’t limited to _him_ as Harry even begins to _volunteer_ for make-over’s from Daisy and Phoebe, and he blogs with Lottie, and he bakes with his Mum, and Louis is beginning to think his family loves Harry more than even _he does._ But no, it’s impossible for anyone to love Harry Styles as much Louis does. Because his love is always growing and changing. Sometimes it’s intense, enormous riptides. Others its calm swells of waves. Every time it’s scary, it’s lovely, and it’s all those things that shouldn’t be possible.

As Louis muses over this, over how his love for this Alpha continues to streak through him, their intertwined hands swing between them, both gloved to protect against the cold. Over the others’ insistent chatter, Harry is humming–Louis’s heart is humming along. Today it’s one of those days that his love is effortless, warm waves.

Though he’s dressed from head-to-toe in thick, winter-wear, the cold still caresses his cheeks and threatens to dry his chapstick moisturized lips as Louis huddles closer to his personal heater. Liam and Zayn are steps behind them, in quiet conversation while Niall and Josh are steps ahead in _loud,_ overpowering conversation. Louis and Harry are silent–they don’t need words during these times, they’re already on the same frequency. As they continue, those mated-packs from those of other cultures, those packs that are each bonded with one, but linked as a whole, comes to mind.

Louis likes this idea, sharing it with Harry excitedly. “Aye, Ireland!” the Alpha calls to Niall–Harry, the Omega’s figured, has an _extra_ soft spot for Niall, but then again, who doesn’t?

“What Shitface?!” _Always the charmer._

Without missing a beat, Harry asks, “What do you think ‘bout bein’ in a pack?”

In response there’s a short-lived pause, then a suspicious, “What are you gettin’ at, Styles?”

“I want to be in a pack!” Louis declares, squeezing Harry’s hand and whispering to him hastily, “Lemme handle this.” When the Alpha squeezes back, Louis continues, “I want to be _brothers,_ Nialler! Pack-brothers! Like the ones in Ireland!”

“Well…why the fuck didn’t you come out with it then?” Niall laughs. “Of course I’ll be in your pack, idiot!” Overcome with excitement, Louis wants to hug himself. Instead, he opts to hug Niall, releasing Harry’s hand to speed up, bumping into Niall from behind and wrapping his arms around his waist, mumbling into his shoulder, “Brothers, Ni! Brothers.”

“Like some sick, incest family,” Josh states dryly from beside them. Louis raises his face to stick his tongue out at the other Alpha, mumbling, “It wouldn’t be _like that_! Just…we’d all be there for each other. Forever. But Hazza,” he directs his attention to Niall again; “Hazza is _mine._ Got it, Ni?”

Snickering, the Omega assures, “Got it, Lou. And Josh is _mine._ ”

“Ew,” Louis scrunches up his face in disgust. “You can have him.”

“There’s one thing,” Josh murmurs, smug. “You’ll have to convince Z. I mean we all know Liam’s putty in your hands, but Z…I dunno ‘bout that.”

“Simple,” Louis chirps, then falls behind, aware of Harry’s intense gaze as he asks quietly, “Z?”

Coming up beside him, Zayn takes his hand, murmuring, “Here, Lou.”

“Oh,” he smiles shyly, “Hi.”

“Hey, mate,” the other Omega murmurs softly, adjusting his beanie.

“Wanna be pack-brothers?” Louis implores, smiling hopefully.

When there’s no answer, the Omega rounds his eyes, and begins to beg, “Please! Please! Please, Zayn!”

“Fuck,” Harry’s best-mate grumbles, “Fine, Lou. Whatever you want.” Probably too excited, Louis squeals, hugging him fast and kissing his slightly stubbly cheek, “I knew you wouldn’t let me down! Love you, Z! You’re the best.”

“How come I wasn’t the best when I agreed?!” Niall calls, naturally good humoured. Ignoring him, Louis beams when Zayn sighs, “Yeah, love you too, Lou.”

“But,” the boy states firmly, pursing his lips. “Harry is _mine,_ okay? Off limits.”

Laughing quietly, Zayn agrees, “All yours, Lou.”

Beaming again, the Omega clutches him close for another thirty seconds before skipping happily away. Though he slips up a bit in the snow, Louis manages to make it to where Harry talks quietly to Josh. Taking his hand, Louis murmurs firmly, “Haz, we are in a pack. It’s official.”

“Are we now?” the Alpha asks, voice warm, affectionate and amused.

As every butterfly in the world migrates to his belly, Louis smiles shyly. “Yes, but no touching Zayn or Niall. Or Josh or Liam for that matter. You’re mine. That’s all.”

“There are _rules?!”_ he teases as Louis catches his bottom lip between his canines.

“Yes, there are bloody rules. These hands,” he lifts the hand that’s closed around his, “belong on _my_ body. No other Omegas. Capesh?”

“And where do these hands belong exactly?” the Alpha leans in, mouth brushing the curve of his ear. “Just so I know. For future references.”

Rose colours his cheeks as Louis buries his face in Harry’s shoulder. “You know where.”

Beside him the Alpha tenses, then lets up, laughing throatily before asking softly, “Wanna show me later?”

Without hesitance Louis nods–Harry’s been careful not to touch him since that time in the bathroom, and the nearer his birthday draws the more he _needs_ because he knows without a doubt that Harry is going to be a thousand times more careful, less physical for fear of triggering his heat. And the thought threatens to hurt him because he _needs_ and craves and going without is going to be a struggle for him. Contact is _everything_ to him. Contact is how he lives, the substitute for his lack thereof vision.

“By the way,” the Alpha murmurs seriously, “You’re off limits as well. I don’t share.”

Louis smiles shyly. “Then we go very well together because I don’t want to be shared.”

“You’re all I need.” A mess of electricity, humming with life and lightening, hot and cold, heartbeat erratic, Louis melts (honest, he might become a puddle in the snow because he’s so in love it consumes his every thought). “I love you.”

“Oh, God!” Niall groans dramatically, having gotten over his obsessive fawning days ago. “Here we go _again._ ”

“Tell me about it! I have to watch them make goo-goo eyes at lunch _every single day._ Finally get a break and I _still_ have to see it!” Liam starts in, teaming with Niall.

“Nobody asked you to be lookin’,” Harry retorts.

“Yeah,” Zayn murmurs, “We have _all_ been exposed to their little phase.”

At this, Louis frowns, demanding, “Little phase? It’s definitely not a phase, Malik. I love him. It’s not going to change. So shut the fuck up.”

A silence overcomes their group, then Niall begins to cackle, and Liam joins in, the two sharing some inside joke. “I…uh…” Zayn mutters, seemingly uncomfortable, “Sorry, Lou. I know…I didn’t mean it that way.”

Rolling his eyes, Louis sighs, “’S okay, Z. Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Oh take the piss!” Niall erupts, still howling, “’Cause you’re the sass-masta! Put ‘im in his place.”

“Shut up, Niall,” Louis hisses, then drags Zayn into an embrace, kissing his cheek. “’M really sorry, Zayn. That was mean.”

“’S alright, Lou,” Zayn murmurs, holding him gently. “I get it.”

“Promise?”

When the other Omega does so, Louis smiles tentatively, then shrieks, “Snow angels! Snow angels!”

In seconds the temperature has returned to its steady chill and Louis simpers with excitement when Harry leads them into the sports field. “I want three minutes head start,” he declares, not bothering to wait on a response before dashing in the other direction. Feeling more free than ever, Louis giggles, aware that Harry’s closing in already.

“Stop, idiots! I don’t want to watch Louis face-plant!” Zayn calls in the distance worriedly.

A playful growl–not Harry’s–follows, then Zayn is dashing after them (judging by the approaching footsteps and the _“Stop! I don’t like this shit! It’s ridiculous!”)._ Near, Zayn pants, “ _Horrible._ This whole bullshit mates-play is _horrible._ ”

Louis giggles, losing his focus which leads him into Harry’s clutches. And then they’re rolling in the cushiony snow, and the Omega is still giggling breathlessly, arms around the Alphas neck. “I love you. So much.”

“You’re everything to me,” the Alpha breathes raggedly into his temple. And Louis wants to kiss every beautiful beat of his heart.

Ruining the moment, Niall plops into the snow beside them, whimpering in pain (the fool, Louis thinks fondly). In seconds, Josh and Liam are at his side. As Louis’s sprawled out beneath the Alpha, clinging, Harry can’t move, but he sounds concerned, craning his head to assess Niall, demanding to know that he’s alright.

Of course this creates tension as Josh snarls, “You don’t worry about _mine,_ Styles.”

Louis feels the vibrations of Harry’s answering growl. Diffusing the situation, Niall curses, “Fuckin… _fuck._ Can you two not get…into…a _pissing contest!_ My bum hurts, and I think I might’ve broken somethin’.”

“I think you’d be screaming in pain if that were the case,” Liam says matter-of-factly.

Yes, Louis thinks knowingly, they’re a pack. Pushing gently at Harry’s chest, the Omega lets his Alpha carry him to his feet. Together they see to Niall who continues to whine like a little babe.

“A pack,” Louis whispers to Harry as everyone surrounds the Irish boy, petting and loving and caring for him in the most brotherly manner (well…except Josh, but that’s to be expected).

“A pack,” the Alpha repeats, that award-worthy grin in his voice.

♥

                The others are still in the field, screwing around, when Harry brings (or forces as the boy protests the entire way there) to his car, parked in the lot as Harry’d walked to Louis’s house and retrieved him with the others to walk back to the park. Despite the layers of winter wear, the Omega still shivers and coughs. Instinct wilding, the Alpha urges the whining boy into the car where the heat drafts from the vents. Somehow, they both end up in the backseat, both on their sides, one of his legs between Louis’s thighs as Louis’s chilled hands are underneath his coat, warming against his skin. And the warmth thickens the boy’s rich scent, spreading fire through his veins. _Fuck, he’s mine, this is mine…_ Jesus, it’s been too long, too long with touching him intimately, the desire to pleasure him, to hear his sexy little noises, watch the pleasure on his features, _feel what he feels…_

Stop it, Harry thinks forcefully, _that can’t keep happening, get it together, Styles. He’s only sixteen._

And about to be seventeen, his Alpha reminds, growing impatient, anticipating Louis’s heat, like he’s _really_ going to serve him. Funny. No, not really, more like _painful._ Dark, toxic _agony_.

Burying his nose in Louis’s silky hair, Harry breathes there, scenting him as he works to stifle the animal inside. While the boy warms, it’s quiet, but soon the shivers cease and his body is loose, relaxed, _soft soft soft. So fucking soft._

“I don’t think,” distancing them, the Alpha takes the opportunity to announce, “that I can make it tonight.”

Watching his features, Harry notes the disappointment that causes his eyebrows to furrow and his mouth to turn down in a frown. Selfishly, he’s pleased with this look as it means Louis might miss him as desperately as Harry certainly will miss _him_ –he’s bonded, thoroughly fucking bonded, and being away from Louis now…is nearly impossible.

“Why not?” the question is sulky, and adorable.

“Well…” he starts almost tentatively, stroking his fringe, fixing the beanie. “Remember months ago when I left that night?”

“And you said it wasn’t anything significant, yes,” Louis says carefully.

“Well…” Harry rubs the back of his neck, clearing his throat before continuing. “It was very significant actually. And I have to go back tonight.”

That adorable frown deepens as Louis’s fingers tense on his stomach. “What is it?”

“It’s…” Harry inhales sharply, and thinks _fuck it, might as well,_ “It’s charity, basically. There’s always more than one even consisting of multiple foster-homes, yeah? But the kids…they’re mostly well-behaved, and they’re lovely kids, too. I can’t watch children grow up with nothing while I have money I won’t even be able to spend out this in this lifetime. So, the aim is to get them all adopted. But it’s a lot of work. So donations work to make sure they’re living comfortably in the meanwhile. But we, Zayn and I, work with a party of executives that administer set-out-groups that travel and gather possible adoptive parents or…yeah. I mean of course we do background checks, interview, eligibility, and everything so we aren’t sending these kids off to some stranger or anything. They have a choice. And…I dunno, they’re really…sweet? I mean I haven’t gotten the chance to meet all of ‘em, there’s so many, but I know most. There’s one boy named Noah and he’s…Shit, sorry, I’m rambling,” he finishes uncomfortably. _Idiot._

Louis’s features have softened. A brilliant smile plays on his mouth; those eyes shine and glitter beautifully with emotion and _fuck_ Harry wants to wash his soul in the bottomless blue of his eyes. “When did you start doin’ all this?”

For no reason at all, the topic makes him uncomfortable as Harry mutters, “’Round sixteen.”

Underneath his shirt, Louis’s hands slide down, then are out, rising to run those warm fingertips along his ticking jaw. “You’re so beautiful, Haz.”

Focusing on the leather seating, rather than Louis, Harry says, “No, I’m really not. It’s not enough. I could do so much more…Just…I’m tryin’ not to take on too much at a time. ‘M fuckin’ useless.”

“Stop that,” Louis whispers fiercely, “Stop doing that.”

When the Alpha doesn’t respond, Louis presses, obviously attempting to distract him. “Tell me about Noah. And the others.”

About as desperate for the distraction, Harry does. Hell, he could go on and on about Noah, the six year old boy is bloody brilliant with mismatched eyes and a dreamers-soul. He’d often considered adopting the kid, but of course it wasn’t possible, still isn’t because favoritism is violation to the charity, and he’s not inclined to discourage the others that are likewise brilliant. And he thinks despite it all they’re fond of him too, because he’d grown up with a handful of them, the older teens stick to his and Zayn’s side, the younger children call Zayn ‘papa’ but they’ve never done so with Harry, who’d admittedly been quite jealous of this, but found that it was better that way because personal attachments to children that weren’t his to keep long was bound to really come back and fuck with him.

By the end, Louis’s eyes have misted over, and there are so many sweet emotions filtering through the bond, so many that Harry couldn’t possibly understand and doesn’t really care to at this point. As long as they’re there, so is he.

“I want to meet them,” Louis declares. “One day, I want to meet them. They sound…lovely.”

With a one shouldered shrug, the Alpha mutters, “You don’t have to Lou, I didn’t tell you this so you’d feel…forced into–,”

“Shut up already,” Louis huffs, “I want to meet them, okay? I don’t feel forced to do anything.”

“Okay.”

“So tonight I suppose it’s just me and Wol–,” midway the boy’s face falls and he sighs, “I forgot Wolfy in France.”

“Now why’d you do that?” Harry teases.

Louis sighs again–fear surges through the bond though the boy hides this well, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I don’t have to go…” the Alpha murmurs, torn between the need to stay with his Omega, to protect him, and the insistent responsibility to his kids.

“No!” Louis rushes, then coughs, startling him. “No. No, go. Please, go. I will be fine. Honest.”

And that sorry excuse for a smile makes up Harry’s mind. Running an unsteady hand over his face, the Alpha struggles to get his phone from his back pocket, but manages and finds it’s ten in the morning. So that gives enough time, by personal Jet it won’t take more than three hours.

Tossing the phone, Harry crushes Louis to his chest, stroking his side and breathing, “Don’t worry, kitten. I will make sure you’re alright tonight.”

“Okay,” Louis whispers, voice tiny. “I trust you.” Those simple words mean more than almost anything to him. I love you comes first. Always does. Even if the Alpha struggles believe it.

♥

                                Restless, the Alpha waits by the skyline beside Zayn, and once again, the two pass a hand-rolled, each hit strong and long and extremely fucking consoling. And he’s more relaxed than he’s been in weeks, dressed in a grey jumper, a striped trench-coat, a scarf and black trousers. As his hairs grown out, the curls loosened into the waves, it’s continuously blown in his face, and he considers tying it back like Zayn has with his, but forgets as the jet arrives in a flurry of wind and snow. Once the package is safely placed in the backseat, the Alpha, alongside Zayn, leave in a bit of a hurry as they’re meeting in the hall towards Bristol at six (which is hours away).

“I’ll be quick,” he tells his best mate, ignoring Zayn’s snort to leave the vehicle with the return and amble up the drive to the front door. Ringing the bell, Harry waits only seconds before Jay answers, surprised but urging him inside, fretting over the weather (not realising Harry’s high as hell and the weather has no affect on him at this point). When he asks to see Louis, she claims he’s in Lottie’s bedroom before returning to the living area, where the girls seem preoccupied with colouring. Quietly, as to keep his presence unknown (he really cannot be any more distracted or waste time, though he wishes he could) he makes it upstairs, to the eldest girl’s bedroom door.

Nearly forgetting common courtesy, Harry goes to open the door when his intentions are interrupted. “Harry leads the tiny–,”

“Oh, please,” Louis grumbles, adorably disgusted. The sound of his high, melodic voice intensifies his calm, leashing his Alpha (he’s the Omega’s little bitch, after all). “I am not that tiny.”

“Shh!” When the boy quiets, his sister continues, “As I was saying. Harry leads the tiny Omega into the bedroom, they’re giggling girlishly–,”

“Neither of us giggles girlishly!”

“Louis! Will you shut up and let me read?” Lottie huffs–Harry really doesn’t appreciate the tone she’s using with him, but the fond note balances his defensive instinct.

“Fine.” Sulky. Annoyed. _Lovely. Mine._

“…madly over the hilarity of the situation, walking in on Niall sitting on Zayn’s ten inch cock–,”

“Jesus! That’s…Nope. I am done. I can’t listen to anymore of this.”

In silent agreement, Harry raps on the door, then opens it when Lottie summons him. In the doorway, Harry leans there, and murmurs as his eyes drink in the sight of Louis, sitting up with a thick throw around his frail shoulders, “So Niall and Zayn, huh?”

“Haz!” Louis cries, hopping from the bed to pounce him. Catching the Omega around the waist, Harry smirks, burying his nose in the young boy’s hair–breathing him in. _Mine._ “What’re you doin’ here?” his voice is muffled by Harry’s coat.

“I brought you something.”

“Oh?” the Omega asks inquisitively, and Harry chooses to ignore Lottie’s sickened look.

“Yeah. You were missing something so.”

Unraveling his hold, the Alpha stoops low to grab the stuffed animal, decorated with baby blue ribbons that he had no intention of adding but the housekeeper seemed to have a bit of fun with the whole gift idea. Which, fine, she can have her fun. Placing the soft stuffed wolf in Louis’s hands, he gazes at him as his confused expression softens, and he hugs the silly, insignificant thing to his chest, raising his eyes, soft, blue pools.

“You…brought me Wolfy? But… _how?_ ”

Shrugging, the Alpha murmurs quietly, “I make things happen.”

Stretching on his tiptoes the Omega wraps one arm around his neck so they’re face to face as Louis kisses him softly. Against the contact, Harry shuts his eyes, snaking his arm around his slim waist, clutching as the flames burn in his veins. “I love you.” And _fuck…_ Those words have some stupid affect on him, causing his cock to strain in his trousers. Like nothing before Louis’s emotions spiral through him, causing his heart to gun at his ribs, and his head spins, and _fuck he’s really high apparently._ More high on Louis than anything else.

An exaggerated groan comes from behind Louis. “This is worse than any fanfic ever.”

“Nobody asked you, Lotts,” Louis responds halfheartedly. Laughing huskily, the Alpha breaks the kiss, though his mouth ends up against Louis’s sweet lips three more times before Lottie shoves them out of the doorway and shuts the door.

“Rude!” the Alpha calls, actually appreciating the privacy. Fuck, yeah, he wants to be alone with Louis.

“You’re rude! Snogging in my doorway and tarnishing my tender sensibilities! How very dare you!”

“Sorry not sorry!” Louis mumbles, snuggling into his chest as Harry holds him softly.

“I should go,” the Alpha says, kissing his temple repeatedly. “Gatta long drive.”

“Drive safe. I love you. Call me when you’re finished. And don’t stay outside long in this weather. And make sure that Zayn’s gotten the proper directions and–,”

“Louis,” Harry breathes, kissing him chastely, then laughing quietly to hide how he’s beginning to panic inside at how _normal_ this feels. An Omega worrying over him, waiting on him. Fuck…this bonded Alpha routine is _confusing._ “I can handle myself for a few hours, baby. I’ll call you when I get there. And before I leave.”

“Promise?” Louis breathes, seriously concerned. A flash of anxiety lurks in his eyes.

“Promises, promises, promises,” Harry growls playfully, grabbing him around the thighs and tossing him over his shoulder, “Many promises. Bouts of promises. I hate promises. Instead I shall take my Omega with me.”

Giggling, Louis kicks his legs. “Kidnap!”

“Mum always told you to fuck with somebody your own age,” Harry murmurs darkly.

“Mum never said any such thing. And you’re like a year and some months ahead anyway.”

“Mum!” Harry shouts. “Mum, help! Your son’s abusing me!”

“Stop messing about you two! Before I send the girls up!” Jay calls from somewhere below.

At the threat, Harry grins, setting Louis on his feet again to breathe, “I like to mess about.”

Mouth parting, so tempting, Louis answers breathily, “I like to mess about with you.”

“Good,” his voice is intense, low as his hand raises (without permission) to cup the boy’s face as he leans in so their mouths are warm against each other. Louis sighs, welcoming as the Alpha tongue teases his, shuddering when Louis responds with tentative strokes. And he’s on _fire,_ Louis’s scent clouding his mind, making it difficult to think about anything beyond his taste, sweet and delicious. Groaning low in his throat, the Alpha backs him into the wall, letting the Omega’s hands tangle in his hair as his breathing roughens.

“You’re so fuckin’ sweet,” he growls against his mouth, hands finding his full, lush arse, gripping and squeezing and forcing their hips together. At the friction he continues huskily, “Your mouth, your scent, your body…” _I wanna wreck you. Fuck you into the mattress._

Louis whines, panting, tearing his mouth away, but Harry has to have him, mouthing at the flawless skin of his throat, canines pointed, starting where he suddenly _needs to be._ “S-Stop,” his voice is so soft, head tilted to give his mouth better access, “You…You have to…have to go.”

“I know.” _I know but fuck I don’t want to go, all I want to do is get you in bed and knot you so well. Fuck, this is what happens when I get to close to you. It’s been too fucking long, and I need this, I need to have you. Now._

“Go,” Louis says, but he’s squirming, creating friction between their clothed cocks, and he’s not going _anywhere._ Not right now.

“Going.” _Yeah right._ His body knows better than to obey his mind at this point as the Alpha’s tongue continues to taste, to take, to–, “I need this,” he breathes roughly, surrendering to this because he’d already known this was going to happen, knew that once he’d gotten his first dose of Louis Tomlinson, he wasn’t going to be able to hold back. “I need to…Fuck, let me take you to bed. Let me fuck you.”

Melting against him, Louis moans, that sexy little sound low in his throat, gripping his hair, “Please. Please.”

“Can you two not keep it together for five seconds without trying to fuck like rabbits?” Zayn’s unimpressed voice comes from some feet away. When Harry tears his mouth away, lifts his head, the Omega is at the top step, leaning against the wall with a disgusted expression. “Hey. Yeah, it’s me. Zayn. Remember, we had places to get to? And that doesn’t include your dick in Louis’s arse.”

Louis groans, hiding his face in Harry’s shoulder. Glowering, the Alpha mutters, “Yeah. Well, I was on my way.”

“Need to get you into bed. Let me fuck you?” the Omega quotes with his fingers. “’Cause that definitely sounds like ‘ _need to get back to the car’._ Totally.”

Rolling his eyes, Harry mutters, “Whatever. ‘M coming so you can take your arse back to the car.”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay, monitor you two. I think Jay rather loves me.”

“Go.”

“Whatever. Just…make it spiffy. Lucky it’s _me_ who overheard all that and not Jay.”

Admittedly, they are. And he’s lucky he’d been interrupted because he would’ve gone through with it. Jesus, he needs to control himself. Needs to…do something about this insistent craving, ‘cause it’s not safe for either of them. Leaning against the wall, Harry focuses on breathing, adjusting his cock in his trousers, wincing a bit before bending to retrieve Wolfy, who’d ended up on the floor. Giving him back to Louis, the Alpha lets Louis show him back downstairs. And it does take a bit longer than normal goodbyes do, but then the Omega shoos him to the front door, claiming to not want to get scolded by Zayn again–which is a proper reason. Before he leaves, Harry calls goodbye to Jay and the girls, kisses Louis again (and again and again–who the hell is counting?) before forcing himself outside (reminding Louis to lock the door behind him) and makes it to the car.

There, he hears it from Zayn for most of the drive– _joy fuckin’ kill_ his best mate is.

♥

A week and some days pass until it’s the one day Louis’s been looking forward to, but dreading all the same. This morning he’s woken by four little bodies pouncing him and screeching “ _happy birthday, Lou! Happy birthday!”_ until he’s groaning from all the extra weight but hugging his favourite girls. Once Jay flits into the room, shooing the girls down to breakfast, she wishes him Happy Birthday, though her inclination includes tears and the whole _‘all-grown-up’_ speech until he’s given his gift (which happens to be a new iPod which he’ll have someone, probably Niall, upload music too) Grinning, Louis embraces his Mum, thanking her profusely before claiming to be in need of a shower in order to escape the dramatics.

Spending more time than necessary in the shower, Louis scrubs at his hair and body until he’s refreshed–from there he wriggles into tights, and one of Harry’s T-shirts, the one that swamps his figure before pulling on socks. From there, Louis attempts to style his hair, but he’s extremely incapable, and gives up within minutes, ridiculous tears stinging his eyes. Abruptly, he’s feeling…emotional? Touchy? Sensitive? For absolutely no reason.

Huffing, the Omega blinks, shakes himself, then ventures below, greeted by the smell of pastries. And he’s so content eating breakfast–chocolate waffles with strawberries and syrup alongside a steaming cup of tea.

Eating more than usual, Louis _loves_ this, loves how his sisters are giving him hand-made bracelets, how he feels especially cherished (even knowing he’s _done nothing_ that deserves such treatment). Birthdays are always his favourite times, not because gifts (he doesn’t expect them, he knows how difficult those are) but because he’s delighted to have special breakfasts’ and lots of hugs and hand-made bracelets and _everything_ that includes the family he’s been blessed with. That’s always been what’s mattered to him. No matter what, it always will be.

An hour or so later the bell rings. When it’s apparent his Mum is too distracted with choosing proper outfits for the girls (this is a _must_ as the twins always decide to wear shorts, or skirts and dresses in this sort of weather), Louis rises from where he’s snuggled close to Lottie on the sofa, and makes it too the door, opening it to ask who’s there when–“You really should not be answering the door without asking who is there first,” his voice is extremely disapproving. Surprised, Louis breathes, “Mum didn’t tell me you were comin’ today?”

“It’s your birthday,” the Alpha murmurs, matter-of-fact, “Happy birthday, kitten.”

Unable to know whether it’d be appropriate to voice his excitement, Louis is grateful when he doesn’t have to make the decision as Harry places something in his hands. A bouquet. Of course. As the Omega lifts the flowers to his nose, the fragrance is pretty, the petals soft, tickling. “Sap,” he whispers as his heart flutters like a hummingbird’s wings.

Asking silently for him to come in, Louis shuffles backwards then strays into the kitchen where he sets the flowers down. “Someone’s goin’ to have to put these in a vase.”

“’Course,” the Alpha agrees, then curses. There’s a noise, a feeble whine. As his eyebrows crease, Louis asks curiously, “What’s that?”

“One of your gifts.”

Louis scrunches his face, hands at his hips as he demands, “So what is it then?”

Laughing boyishly, the Alpha murmurs expectantly, “I would like a bit more enthusiasm.”

“It’s _my_ birthday,” the Omega reminds haughtily. “I get a moody-pass.”

“Whatever kitten says,” Harry–wise as his Alpha is–gives, that boyish, _energized_ tone to his voice that causes Louis to grin as Harry murmurs quietly, “Come.” And they end up in the living room, where Harry sinks to his knees. Following, the Omega sits cross-legged a little ways from him and waits impatiently until the Alpha lays the “gift” in his lap.

It’s a light, warm, silken weight in his lap. And it’s whining. Confused, Louis brings his hands over the little, scrambling thing, and sooths over its silky fur. When something warm and wet licks his hand, Louis snatches it back, mumbling, “Er…what is it?”’

There’s another boyish laugh. “A puppy.” _Oh…Oh…Wow._

“A puppy?” he asks, excitement welling inside him as he beams, “You got me a puppy, Haz?!”

“A puppy. She’s yours if you’ll have her.”

Louis reaches back down, gently gathers the little creature, toying with the plated-collar, becoming accustomed to the squirming and the licking and noises.

“But…” Louis whispers sadly, reality creeping up on him (to hide his disappointment Louis keeps his head bowed low as he pets the little puppy), “I can’t take care of a puppy.”

“She’s going to be trained as a Guide Dog. I figured…I want you to have some independence. ‘Cause I know…I know how it gets sometimes. When you’re constantly being coddled or confined…I don’t want that to be one of those things that bothers you anymore. And I know not every day will I be around though I want it that way…I know it’s not possible, so I at least want to know you’re secure…”

“I…” Louis struggles to find words to convey how he’s feeling–touched, in love, excited and… “You’d do that? You’d give me that freedom?”

“Yeah,” Harry says quietly. “I will probably be going out of my mind, but I can’t stand the thought of you feeling how I’ve felt for yours. Don’t say no. Accept her. She’s purebred, a Labrador Retriever and she’s four months old.”

Swallowing around the emotion in his throat, Louis lowers his face to the puppy again, stroking her fine fur. “Hi, lovely,” he whispers, stroking as she whines, stilling in his arms. And she must be beautiful, he thinks dotingly. “D’you think Mum will say yes?”

“I already discussed it with her.”

Louis makes a face. “Of course.” Releasing the puppy gently, Louis listens to her patter about nearby, then moves carefully until he’s in Harry’s lap, breathing in his scent, trying to blink back the tears swimming in his useless eyes, “I love her. I love you. And I kinda wanna cry…’M so happy.”

“Don’t,” the Alpha whispers willfully, “Please, don’t cry. Not today. Today’s a lovely day. Seventeen.”

With a watery smile, Louis dashes at stray tears, then laughs shakily. “Seventeen. ‘M a big boy now.”

Laughing quietly, Harry noses at his cheek. “You are. And now a Daddy too.”

At this, the Omega giggles, “Daddy? I don’t wanna be Daddy. I want to be Dada. You be Daddy.” As the Omega says this, the puppy struggles to get into his lap. Plucking her from the floor, Louis places her in his lap, petting as she curls up tiny. “Awe, Haz, she’s sleepin’.”

“Already takin’ your attention, I see.”

Louis grins, raising his face to brush his lips across his jawline, breathing, “Let’s name her Lilac.”

“No,” the Alpha snorts, “Let’s name her Tika.”

“Tika?!” the Omega squawks, bottom lip jutting. “What kinda name is that? No. Absolutely not! She’s _my_ puppy. Therefore her name is Lilac.”

“Nope,” Harry says simply. “I refuse to call her that. Tika.”

Nipping at his jay, Louis huffs, then leans down to kiss Lilac, “Don’t worry, baby girl. Dada’s not going to let the mean Alpha name you Tika. Don’t you worry.”

“Tika,” the Alpha singsongs lightly, before gripping Louis’s jaw in two, firm fingers, directing him so they’re nose to nose. And he teases him, turning his face when the Alpha tries to kiss him, then giggling when Harry growls in warning. Turning again, Louis noses at his jaw, then brushes their mouths, soft, soft, soft and _teasing._ “Tika.”

“Who’s puppy?” Louis asks petulantly, turning his face again. “My puppy. My Lilac.”

Minutes continue in banter before one of the girls catches sight of Lilac. “Oh my Gosh!” Daisy shrieks, beckoning the others that begin to gush, “She’s so cute!”

“Can I hold her!?”

“Please, Lou! Please!”

Though he’d rather keep his puppy close, Louis shuffles from Harry’s lap, handing the squirming Lilac to Harry who hands her over to one of the girls.

“Please, be careful,” Louis tells them, chewing nervously at his bottom lip–would it be worse to trust a disabled boy with a puppy or a group of little girls?

“What’s her name?” Fliss asks, obviously having gotten her turn to hold Lilac.

“Tika.”

“Lilac.” Louis glares cuttingly in Harry’s direction before repeating, softly to Fliss, “Its Lilac.”

“Pretty,” the middle child whispers.

With a winning grin, Louis nods, “Innit? You should go show Mummy. And be careful walking up the stairs with her.”

Leaving them, Fliss takes Lilac with her, Daisy and Phoebe trailing until they’re alone again. Brimming with excitement, Louis crawls into Harry’s lap, hooking his arms around the Alpha’s shoulders and grinning. “I love her. Thank you…I…You spoil me.”

Without answering, the Alpha gazes at him. Under the intensity, Louis squirms, cheeks rosy as he lowers his eyes.

“I missed you,” he breathes self-consciously, fingers twirling in Harry’s waves. “It’s been three days you know.”

“I know. Felt like I was suffering from withdrawal,” the Alpha whispers seriously, huskily, the sound caressing Louis’s senses. “Can I kiss you? I won’t…take it farther.”

Louis catches his bottom lip between his canines, swallowing a million flames to breathe, “Why not?”

“Because we’re on the floor. And not in your bedroom, or an enclosed space…And fuck I’m so hard looking at you right now I could come in my trousers.”

Desire warms his blood as his breathing hitches in his throat. Down there begins to ache, _everywhere_ does, everywhere they’re not touching is _cold cold cold,_ and Louis _needs._ “Oh,” is the only word he manages that won’t end in a whimper.

“Yeah,” the Alpha murmurs. “That turns you on, doesn’t it? Knowing how much I want you.”

More, more, more, his Omega begs as Louis shivers, flexing his finger as the ache intensifies, but _different_ this time, this time it’s…he’s damp and warm and meant to be taken…down there. Embarrassed, confused, the boy nods silently.

“Can you wait until tonight?” he asks, voice coarse and husky and Alpha. “I want to…I need to get you underneath me. Tonight.”

Tilting his head, baring his throat, Louis struggles to breathe evenly, lightheaded with cravings he’s never experienced. “I don’t want to wait. Want it now.”

“It’d be better to wait.”

Louis shakes his head, mumbling as his fingers tighten, “’S been more than a week already.”

Gripping one of his arms the Alpha tugs so Louis releases his hold, allowing Harry to kiss each of his fingertips. “Patience, love.”

“Fine,” he mutters, then smiles shyly at Harry’s exasperated sigh.

“Go upstairs and get dressed. We’re goin’ out. I know you have plans with Niall and Zayn at four so we should get goin’ now.”

Not bothering to question how the Alpha knows this, Louis brightens, “Where’re we going?”

“Patience.”

Blowing out an annoyed breath, Louis rolls his eyes, but stands, asking softly, “Come with me? I’m…scared Lilac might be loose. I don’t want to accidently step on her or something.” _And I want to get you in my bedroom–alone. I think you’re going to give me what I want. Now._

“I…Fuck. Fuck, okay,” the Alpha mutters. And the Omega whines, knowing with every instinctive gene in him what is going to happen, where it leads. When they’re upstairs. In his bedroom. Alone.

Grabbing his hand, Louis hurries upstairs, tripping and stumbling until he’s gripped around the waist and rotated–gasping, melting, _sighing_ as Harry’s mouth comes over his. By the time they’re in his bedroom, both hands are clutching each of the Alpha’s shoulders, quiet mewls escaping him as Harry pins him to the mattress, forcing his legs apart, spreading his thighs. Arching against the mattress, the Omega makes little, pleased noises as the Alpha fixes between his thighs, rutting against him. At first it’s soft, so soft, but as Louis’s head swims, the pace quickens, roughens.

“Haz,” Louis whimpers, nails biting into his shoulders, unsure of where to put them though Harry’s are splayed at the back of his thighs. Cursing roughly, the Alpha buries his face in Louis’s throat, breathing hot hot hot, “You’re goin’ to kill me. Always gatta have you. All the time.”

Mewling low in his throat, the Omega is lost in the sensation, pushing him, pushing him, onward, high, high up…Growling that thick, demanding sound, Harry’s mouth returns to his, and Louis doesn’t remember what it is to breathe until their mouths are connected, until Harry’s tongue parts his lips, until sharp canines lock around his bottom lip, until…until….Sharp sensation spears through his belly as Louis’s hips grind against the bulging erection in Harry’s trousers, the coarse pull of the denim across his heated flesh makes him shudder. At this throat again, the Alpha marks his skin, and this time those teeth close around the sensitive skin at his throat and– Bliss Bliss Bliss is flaming in his belly as his hips lose their pace, and he whimpers, louder than allowed, “Haz.”

Harder–he’s biting him harder, and harder Louis bites his bottom lip, world spiraling and fading with his orgasm, sparks of lightening electrifying his veins, pleasure drafting through him, arching his body.

Gasping, shivering, the Omega realises dimly that Harry’s continued the effortless motions of his hips, breathing nearly inaudibly in his ear, “So beautiful. Gorgeous. The only boy I see. Only one…that makes me need it like this. Can’t fuckin’ have _enough._ ”

And his voice is rough, desperate, and urgent as his fingers grip Louis’s hips, movements as rough against him. Sensitive, Louis whimpers without meaning to and groaning, Harry halts instantly, “Am I hurting you?”

Frantic, Louis shakes his head, whispering, “No…Just sensitive. Keep going.”

“No,” the Alpha mutters, collapsing beside him. “You’re pullin’ that self-sacrificing shit again. Even during sex.”

Mulishly, Louis clenches his teeth, “No. No, I want you to come. That’s what I _want._ ‘S my birthday. Gimme what I want.” Even as he says this, there’s no denying how wet he is in his tights, sticky wet, and so, so sated.

“Later…Later.” And it’s said more to himself than to Louis.

Letting up, Louis spends the next few beats of silence catching his breath. Then, unable to help it, the boy giggles, throwing an arm over his flushed face. “We’re shameless.”

“ _You_ are. You initiated it. I was going to wait.”

Louis bites his bottom lip, the bats his lashes, asking softly, “Were you really?”

“No,” the Alpha growls, gripping his hand, “No, fuck, I wasn’t going to wait.”

Grinning impishly, the Omega breathes, satisfied, “I knew it. Just had to get you alone.”

“Have me wrapped around your little fingers, you do.”

Louis giggles, squeezing his hand, then using the other to brush the dampened waves from his face. “You should probably leave the room before Mum realises we’re in here…together.”

Groaning again, the Alpha mutters, “I hope she hasn’t already. I think I’ll wait by the door to avoid her.”

“Me too,” the Omega mumbles, “Think she’ll give us a freebee ‘cause it’s my birthday?”

“I fuckin’ hope so. Be quick.”

Louis smiles, saluting as Harry stands, “Yessir.”

Making it to the exit, Harry murmurs playfully, “You know…you’re in a much better mood once that sexual rouge’s been let loose.”

Louis giggles again, “Nymphomaniac, I am.”

Without answering, the Alpha slips outside his bedroom, returning shortly with a damp cloth to place it on his nightstand. Alone again, Louis relaxes, smiling stupidly until the stickiness becomes too uncomfortable to bear. Cleaning thoroughly, the Omega changes into skintight (what feels like) denim skinnies, a turtleneck, tugging another of Harry’s coats over the thin material. Ruffling his fringe, Louis deems himself presentable and opens the door to announce, “Ready.”

When the Alpha hums, Louis asks shyly, “Do I look alright?”

“Lovely,” Harry murmurs–his heart may or may not skip a beat. “Thoroughly fucked.”

Beaming, the Omega all but skips downstairs, breathless and excited as Harry trails, obviously reluctant. With good reason too as his Mother calls the Alpha over not even seconds upon their arrival–sending him an _‘good-luck’_ smile, Louis doesn’t hesitate to abandon (it’s his birthday, alright) him, making it over to the living area, where the girls fawn over Lilac. “Can I see her, girls? Just before I go.”

Reluctant, Daisy hands Lilac over, and Louis cradles her, cooing until Harry returns to his side, murmuring, “Time to make our exit.”

Understanding, Louis nods, the carefully kisses his puppy, making sure Harry kisses her as well before handing Lilac to Fliss. Before his Mum can get to him, the Omega is at the door, calling, “Bye, Mum! See you later! Love you!” Rushing outside, Louis lets Harry help him into the car, and only when they’re down the road, in the safe, does the Omega relax, asking timidly, “Was she very angry?”

“Actually,” the Alpha murmurs, sounding oddly smug. “I’d say she was pretty…accepting. I don’t think she heard anything. I think she just realised we were in the room alone and didn’t care to know the why’s. She’s only doing her job as your Mum.”

Slightly put out with Harry for taking his Mother’s side, Louis sulks in the passenger seat. “Well today is my day.”

“You’re right…” the Alpha breathes, taking his hand and brushing his mouth across Louis’s knuckles, “Your day.”

The words tingle on his skin as Louis comes to terms with the fact that there’s no staying upset at Harry Styles.

♥

“What exactly are we supposed to be doing again?” Louis asks curiously as Harry ties his hair into a little bun, shrugging out of his coat so he’s left in a simple T-shirt. In the large room, every sound echoes; the place is extravagant to loosely put it, a manor located on the outskirts of Durham dated back to the Victorian Era.

It’s no secret that the Styles’ family owns many estates spread along the United Kingdom, but while everyone praises and desires this wealth, Harry’s always thought it meaningless–there is no one to house these estates proper. Though it’s cared for by tenants…it’s still _empty_ and _bare._ Lonely. Hell, Harry thinks this manor compares to him perfectly; brimmed with shallow charm, but vacant inside–no extreme feelings…Until now.

Because Louis naturally transforms nothing into something–except it’s not natural by any means. Not one little boy should have all this _power_.

“I thought,” Harry replies quietly, watching him survey the room with his hands, running them over the hunter green walls ( _who the hell painted this room?),_ the borders and the worn structure. “Maybe you’d like to try your hand at writing.”

“And why did we have to write here?” the Omega asks, an amused smile playing at the corners of his coquettish mouth.

Rubbing at the back of his neck, the Alpha mutters, “I wanted to try my hand at painting. So I thought, _‘hey why don’t we both learn something?’.”_

Some strange fission of sweet, lovely emotion bleeds through the bond as Louis’s eyes, blank and bottomless, stop over his shoulder. And Harry thinks he’s been looking at the Omega too much. “Why are you so kind to me?” he asks quietly.

Slightly thrown, Harry blurts, “You deserve nothing less from anybody.”

Pausing, Louis breathes, “But why you? Why are _you_ so kind to me?” _You've done this to me, baby...I don't know how, I don't know why...but I've been here, tied down, for days._

“I’m not.” _I am not nearly as kind as I should be. I never have been…_

“You are. You’re…thoughtful.”

“I wasn’t being thoughtful, I want–,”

“To paint? I doubt that. Be honest, baby,” Louis says, teeming with amusement as Harry falters. “Have you had any desire to _paint?_ Or did you simple want to make sure I didn’t feel…any more lacking?”

Shutting his eyes, the Alpha pulls in one, unsteady breath, unwilling to answer that because this boy sees right through him without actually _seeing._

“You’re thoughtful,” Louis whispers again, voice gentle with some emotion Harry can’t interpret. “You’ve always been this way with me and you’re…not with anyone else. You’re not. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Harry lies–swallowing the bullet in his throat, the threatening words _‘you’re my everything. I want you to love me. I need you to love me and I couldn’t intentionally hurt you if I tried.’_

“Liar. I think you know exactly why you act the way you do towards me. I think I know too.”

At this the Alpha can’t help but smile that sheepish, _you-got-me-but-I-won’t-say-so_ smile. “Just turned seventeen and think you’re a mind-reader.”

“Only a Harry-reader.”

“Dangerous,” Harry comments wearily, kneeling to start opening the paint, humming as Louis continues around the room, feeling about the space for furniture (though Harry could tell him there isn’t any, he won’t unless the Omega asks).

“Would you like to use a brush or your hands?” Harry asks to fill the comfortable silence. Though silence is always nice, the Alpha rather loves listening to Louis ramble on and on about things that might be meaningless nonsense to anyone else _but Harry._

“Will it stain?”

“Probably–it’s supposed to be washable, but I wouldn’t trust it. And anyway I have gloves. Or oils. It comes off eventually.”

Pondering this, the Omega settles beside him; hand on his shoulder as his eyes still stare blankly straight ahead. “Let’s go all out with it and use our hands. You said you were good with ‘em. Prove it.”

“Challenge accepted,” Harry declares, grabbing his relaxed palm and dipping their hands in the open paint up to the wrist as Louis gasps, then giggles when Harry wriggles his slippery fingers between his. “Let’s put Zayn’s art to shame, shall we?”

Louis laughs airily. “Yeah right. One blind and one about as artistic as a three year old. Sure to prove successful.”

Pouting, the Alpha mutters, bringing them to a stance and flattening Louis’s paint-coated hand on the wall. “We make a bloody swell team, thank you very much.”

“I think so, too,” Louis breathes, beaming up at him. “LouisandHarry.”

With a chaste kiss, Harry nods in approval. “We can practise my name until you’ve gotten it down. Then I have something I’d like to write.”

“Oh,” Louis comments pertly, “And what would that be?”

“I won’t say. Not yet.”

Louis blinks, then asks quietly, “Confidential information?”

“Somewhat,” he hedges.

“Can I still help?”

Now the Alpha grins fondly, “Of course, silly. But let’s start with your lessons first.”

A while passes like this with blue, blue paint (there are handprints and little hearts and a million scribbled _Harry’s)_ before Louis states he’s ready to write it without help. And the Omegas excitement is infectious as the Alpha steps back and watches his slow, slow, slow, cautious movements, the _H_ significantly larger than the following letters, but connecting neatly. It takes four minutes until he’s finished, the letters slanted and parted and extremely _beautiful._

When Louis drops his hands, he’s still facing the wall–his excitement is overflowing and well, while he may remain composed and hushed in his excitement, Harry simply _won’t._

“You’re so fucking brilliant,” he claims fiercely, lifting him beneath the tights, hands staining his trousers (oh fuckin’ well). “It’s fucking…You did that. My name.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Louis says, then shrieks, delight grasping him, “Oh my God! Hazza, I wrote your name! Harry, Harry I _did that!_ ”

Laughing, Harry breathes, “You did that, brilliant boy.”

“I know it’s nowhere near perfect…but I still did it…and I–,” he stops, then shakes his head, smiling adorably. “I’m really…I just…I’m happy.”

And Harry is sure he has that same, ridiculous look on his face. Unable to keep still, Louis squirms until he’s on his feet again, then kneels, patting around until reaching the paint, dipping his hands into the liquid again. And he writes Harry over and over again until Harry’s seated by the opposite wall, simply gazing at him as the boy has his fun, watching him practise the _L_ to Louis and then progress into writing _‘L + H’_ but doesn’t finish (Harry isn’t sure he knows how to write an equal-sign, and surely doesn’t know how to depict a heart on his own).

Watching is the best part for Harry–he likes to observe Louis’s childish glee surfaces with sunny happiness. Too soon his thoughts return, crash into his chest, and Harry has to move to clear the thoughts plaguing him, standing to dip his stained hands blue again, taking Louis’s (not expecting this, the boy gasps at the sudden proximity, but Harry’s mind is elsewhere).

“You know,” the Omega starts, then pauses, seemingly at a loss. Then, seconds too-late, “You’re like the big brother I never had.”

At this the Alpha winces, hand pausing their work on the _‘l’,_ “That’s worrying.”

Snickering, Louis asks casually, “How so?” then, “I mean it’s not like we’re in a relationship or anything.” Despite the lighthearted tone, Harry can sense his response will prove significant.

“Well,” Harry murmurs, carefully _‘v’_ on the third word. “Considering we _are_ very much in a relationship…Considering my feeling for you, little Omega, are nowhere near brotherly…Considering I find you desirable in every possible way…that would be worrying.”

By the time he’s finished speaking, they’ve completed the third word and the Omega’s answering voice is breathy, “Yeah? W-Which way do you desire me most?” Another one of those innocent questions that gives Harry the choice to give too much or too little–there’s never an in-between with him.

That little insight threatens to panic him, but also threatens to hurt _them,_ to worsen the causalities from Louis’s last stunt, which won’t do. Not this time.

“None,” is the first idiotic word to escape his mouth. But he doesn’t give the word a chance to be grasped, hurrying, “None because I desire them all the same. I desire your mind and all your thoughts. And I desire your heart and what makes you strong and what makes you weak. I desire your body and all its fuckin’ glory, and I desire your soul, what makes you _Louis_. All the same. Mind, heart, body, soul. I want everything.”

“And say I…say I surrender them willingly?”

“Then you wouldn’t be Louis,” he murmurs.

“I’m still Louis,” the Omega whispers, the little _v_ forming between his brows. “I…I won’t fight you on this, okay? But I won’t hand myself over on a silver-platter either. You can take…or I can keep.”

“So it’s on me?”

“You’re the Alpha,” Louis says, “You make the ultimate decision. I’m not saying _no._ ”

“But you’re not saying _yes_ either.”

“I’m saying…” the Omega mumbles, letting him complete the last _‘s’_ to the sixth, final word. “I’m saying prove me wrong. Prove to me that I’m desirable enough to keep. That despite everything, my fuck ups and yours, despite everything that can and will go wrong…we are something worthwhile.”

And their hands are still wet and coloured, Harry’s covering Louis’s completely and the Alpha focuses on the significant distinction in size, in the length of his fingers, and the palm hiding Louis’s. Because Harry’s hands are made to protect and please and Louis’s are meant to gentle, to care, to _love._

And they’re different in the most subtle ways.

In mere months this is what Louis’d taught him. That two very different and yet not-so-different people could, for a scattering of breathless moments, be one.

But the Alpha never dares to say so, because some things are better left unsaid, or perhaps he’s simply _scared_ (terrified even)–no, Harry thinks forcefully, not _scared, no._ Cautious, stupid, an idiot, maybe, but never _scared._

Two unreasonably lovely hours continue this way. As the Omega traces the hearts (sloppily so, but recognisable) Harry’d showed him to draw (he isn’t very good with them either) until the Alpha goes to his bag, grabbing the camera case and removing the camera, fiddling with the lens until the visual is to his standards. The lighting is fairly dimmed as the weather is dreary with winter, but it’s excellent all the same, so as this works, Harry murmurs, in an outrageously shamed Italian accent, “Lights, camera, _action.”_

Seemingly shocked, Louis turns to face him, and the Alpha gets the first, pale-eyed, pale skin shot. And continues to act, “Strike a pose, darlin’.” Louis stands there, hands to his hips, looking entirely unimpressed, “Yes, yes, like that, _bello.”_

Giggling, the Omega shields his face with sticky, stained hands. “Haz, stop being ridiculous!”

“That’s _Sir_ Haz to you,” he growls playfully, smirking as he crouches in the left corner now, capturing more images.

“Grow up!”

“C’mon, Lou,” he reasons. “Just let me see your face.”

“No,” Louis murmurs, stubborn-as-ever–but Harry can tell he’s challenging him in hopes of playing. “No flash-photography please.”

“Nobody ever listens to that,” is his response as he walks to the next corner, the next angle giving him more expression.

“Stop taking pictures, Harry!” Louis shrieks.

Grinning wickedly, the Alpha continues around the room, snapping shots from all different, lovely angles. “Why? You were made for the camera, Lou.”

Bottom lip jutting attractively, Louis bends (Harry may or may not snap a picture of this too–for safe keeping of course) dipping his hands in the paint against so they’re wet. “Stop it or else.”

Waggling his eyebrows the Alpha asks, “Or else _what,_ kitten? Going to–,”

When the Omega starts at him, Harry manages to catch these pictures– _pouty Louis, annoyed Louis, impish Louis_ –before he’s being shoved by wet hands. The camera tumbles to the floor with a cringe-worthy sound as Harry slips on paint, hands circling Louis’s slippery wrists, taking him down as well. And he takes the fall, which fucking _hurts,_ as Omega laughs, rolling onto his back and poking his tongue out, “I win!”

Swiping the blue paint across Harry’s cheek, Louis curls closer, and breathes, “No more pictures.”

Growling playfully, the Alpha takes both Louis’s wrists in one hand, tugging them above his head as Harry braces over him. Leaning in, Harry licks the shell of his ear, and starts, “I have a secret I want to tell you…exquisite visions fill up my mind, will you remember me? Taking pictures of you as the light came through…You were running away…”

Beneath him, the Omega softens, “And what song would that be?”

Harry grins, then supplies, “Taking Pictures of You, the Kooks.”

“I think the music you listen to is a bad influence,” Louis decides, voice light and breathless.

“Boy I wanna be good to you; I never wanna do you no harm,” Harry continues onto another, keeping the laughter out of his voice as he sings the next beat. “Why don’t we run away? You make me want to run awa-ay, angel.”

“Tell me more,” Louis giggles, grinning brilliantly.

Nosing his cheek, Harry continues on, hushed and serious, “It’s killin’ me, the things that you can do, that no one else can do to me at all,” and he hums the acoustics, inhaling Louis’s rich, fresh scent, “You can help me out…I want to love you. ‘Cause I feel so cold without my sun, and you’re the one I can’t run from.”

Minutes stretch in silence until, in a shaky, soft voice, “I don’t understand you, Harry Styles. How can you be such an arse, but such a sap all the same?”

Harry smiles–that tell-tale permutation of affection and admiration and complete _fond_ coming over him as he releases Louis’s wrists. “Well…for once, I’m trying.”

As the boys nimble fingers twine in his hair, the Alpha shudders, shutting his eyes at the innocent sensation, not really caring that Louis is getting paint in his hair, though hoping it does wash away before this next…gathering. “Trying to do what exactly?”

“Explain my feelings with lyrics because I don’t really know how to express them on my own.”

Louis giggles, running his fingers through his waves now. “We’ll work on it, my precious little Alphaboy.”

Still grinning, Harry replies, “’M not precious. Nor am I little. That’s all you, sweetheart.”

When the Omega goes to respond, Harry’s alarm goes off; signaling it’s three thirty and it’s time for them to move on. Sighing, Louis pouts, “Why do I have to have friends?”

“Gatta go,” Harry evades, smiling effortlessly, bringing Louis to his feet and kissing him quick, murmuring against his mouth, “Let’s clean up the best we can.”

When they’re finished (surprising, the paint mostly fades with the soap and oils) Harry smoothes back his streaked blue hair, redoing the pony that Louis’d removed and bringing them back to the room. Helping Louis into his coat, Harry shrugs into his own, not touching to mess of paint on the floor but grabbing his camera and his bag before taking Louis’s hand and leading him to the door.

Without permission, his legs halt at the exit, and his eyes pinpoint the wall where big, bolded letters read, _‘I still love you, always’._ Staring at the words now, emotion wells up inside him, but it’s fleeting because Louis, blissfully oblivious, tugs on his hand, sighing in mock exasperation, “C’mon, H. There’s nothing all that meaningful that we’re leaving behind so let’s get going before Niall or Zayn kills _you._ ” _Little do you know, little Omega, my only love._

Smiling affectingly, the Alpha lets Louis lead him out, leaving the words on the wall behind them. But they’re still there–written in his lungs, branded into his thoughts, scarred into his heart. Unsaid words that stay with him, between them.

♥

                When Louis arrives at Niall’s he’s greeted by sloppy kisses and “Happy birthday! Happy birthday! Happy fuckin’ birthday!” And he’s forgotten his previous sadness from having to leave Harry as he runs around Niall’s room in attempts to escape his ‘seventeen birthday arse-slaps’. In the end, Zayn saves him, arriving not minutes after him, and Louis throws himself at the unsuspecting Omega, shrieking, “Save me! Save me!”

Sighing, the Omega attempts to sound put out with Niall, “Niall Horan, leave the birthday boy alone!”

But…nothing can stop Niall as the Irish lad ends up slapping his bum playfully anyhow even as Louis falls, tripping over the carpet. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” he whines, pouting and rubbing his knee, which took most of the fall. That’s going to bruise, he thinks, but soon forgets as Niall laughs, and Zayn kneels beside him, bringing him close and wishing him happy birthday, soft and gentle, kissing his head and patting his sore knee.

“Alright! Let’s get to the main event!” his best-mate announces, giving him no choice but to go along on the outing Zayn and Niall have planned.

Under the two Omega’s tireless and intrusive ministrations, then hair Louis’d achieved ( _yes achieved, he’s seventeen, jeez)_ is waxed and shaved to perfection, his body buffed all over. Now he’s smooth– _everywhere._ And feels very…weird, unpleasant. Well, the _experience_ had been, but now it’s a rather nice feeling, being smooth, and soft. Louis won’t complain because Niall had assured him this is what Alphas expected of their Omegas–though Zayn had simply snorted, “Harry is about as smooth as any pubescent out there, Lou. Someone has to look manly so don’t listen to Niall.”

Even so, Louis mules over this, wondering what else Harry would expect, and wondering whether he’s okay with being dictated…Of course his Omega is, but Louis…Louis thinks he’d rather live by _his own guidelines,_ Harry’s be damned.

When it’s over, he’s showered and emerges, applying fragrances and lotion and deodorant until (once again) he’s given an outfit, Niall in the bathroom with him, helping because there’s these… _stockings_ being pulled up to his thighs, ending mid-thigh. And the panties. “What is the point of the stockings?” Louis asks, squirming.

“They’re sexy,” Niall says simply, then orders him to put on the rest of his clothing. Sighing, the Omega does as told, carefully wriggling into his trousers (thankfully, they’re somewhat loose and don’t mess up the stockings underneath) then pulling on the shirt and stepping out to complain some more while Niall ties his shoes. Put out, Louis plops backwards on the bed where Zayn rests, more pampered than he’d like to be.

As he whines, Zayn pets his hair, complimenting him even as Niall bats his hands away. Then the two (as usual) begin to bicker back and forth until they’re outside waiting on their Alphas.

When a car pulls up, Louis’s face heats, and he foolishly begins to worry that Harry knows what he’s wearing underneath his clothing. _Oh no. Oh no. Oh no._

Before he can really begin to panic, Liam envelopes him in an embrace, breathing fiercely, “Seventeen, Lou. Happy bloody birthday.”

“You’re getting drunk with me for the birthday okay?”

“Clear that with Harry and I’m all for it.”

Louis beams, nuzzling his shoulder, “Love you. Harry doesn’t dictate my life. We are getting drunk.” Breaking from the embrace, Louis greets Josh next, having his hair ruffled though Niall scolds his Alpha for “ _ruining my handiwork!”_ to which Josh snorts, “ _It looks exactly how it always does!”_

For some reason, they’re in a rush to get wherever they’re going as Louis doesn’t even have the chance to properly greet his Alpha because he’s being shoved by Niall into the car, seated in the back between the Irish lad and Liam. Distracted by the two, Louis doesn’t realise Harry’s spoken all of three words until an hour or so later he’s stumbling from the car.

Outside, it’s _freezing,_ and silent. Confused, Louis goes to question, but the Alpha’s gloved hand grabs ahold of his, leading him into a warm, warm place. Weirdly enough, the others don’t follow as they start up the stairs that seem to go on forever until, at last, Harry stops, tense and practically radiating anxiety.

Thrown, Louis asks quietly, “What’s wrong?”

♥

                At the question, the Alpha swallows thickly, running a hand through his previously styled hair as he considers responding evasively. But one look at Louis, gorgeous, soft, gentle, _concerned,_ has him blurting, “I’m havin’ a bit of a freak-out at the moment.”

Obviously confused, the Omega’s eyebrows crease, mouth turning down in a frown–Harry decides he only ever wants to see Louis smile, because it’s been the only beautiful thing in this world. “Why?”

“Just…” the Alpha struggles to find some explanation without giving the surprise away.

Squeezing his hand, Louis shuffles close, bringing his arm around Harry’s neck, rising on his tiptoes to whisper, breath warm against his mouth, “’S okay, Haz.”

“Well, it’d better be,” Harry mutters before shoving the French doors concealing the balcony open and carrying him forward, into the lime-light. The quiet disappears instantly at the sight of Louis, screams and shouts and camera flashes erupt everywhere as the boy whirls around the face him again. This time he’s greeted by wide, round, ingenious pools of blue as Louis shrills, “What is this?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) Hi there...  
> What did you think? What does Harry have in store this time?:D  
> Loved to hear your thoughts!  
> .xxx


	22. Part Twenty Two;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!:) Nice to be back! So this one…oh, this one…I’m very nervous to hear the thoughts on this one. Um…yeah, ugh, I’m also excited! Lots of love too you all! & all the thanks!:).xx  
> This one is dedicated, and inspired by my lovely friend, Harley! loveliestfan! Thanks, love! (AS PROMISED FOR 85 YEARS! I MADE GOOD ON MY PROMISE, DIDN’T I?!.xx)  
> Especially important, the most brilliant, amazing, beautiful soul, Milena! [bestbetaever!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) THANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME OF MY OWN EVIL WAYS. I NEEDED IT. Without you, this chapter…HA! Wouldn’t be a chapter! Love you long time .xx

As the Alpha steps out beside him the sounds climb some thousand deafening decibels, but Harry takes this in stride, used to the lime-light, ignoring their calls and pleads to brush Louis’s windblown fringe from his face with trembling, leather-gloved fingers. “I don’t take kind to being doubted,” he says underneath the noise, mouth brushing the curve of Louis’s ear as he leans in, “Especially not by you. And I want you to trust me. I want you to know you’re not some secret ‘m ashamed of…or something. Not at all. We don’t have to put a title on it…but if this is what I have to do to convince you that I’m here to stay I will do it. You’re my…” _everything,_ “You deserve more than that. And I never want to you to doubt me. So everyone should know I have no reason to be doubted as well.”

Distancing them some, Harry gazes at Louis, whose wide eyes are swimming with tears. “What about…What about the Council or your Dad…or…?”

“Like I said before,” he says seriously. “They do not affect LouisandHarry. I’m…I’m giving you the chance now to back out, Lou. You don’t have to say yes to this. But I want you to.”

Louis blinks, then laughs breathlessly, giddily, “Me too. I want this too.”

Assured, the Alpha faces the crowd, holding Louis around the waist in one arm, staring over crowd into the vast snowy grounds. A hush spreads across the deck below, and when it’s finally quiet enough, Harry speaks, the mic connected to the collar of his button-up amplifying the sound, “So this is pretty spur-the-moment.” When some people laugh, like it’s actually funny, Harry rolls his eyes, but continues, “But I’ve been meaning to do this for a while now. As most of you already know, ‘cause talk is cheap, it’s Louis’s seventeenth birthday.” Shouts and screams– _happy birthday_ roars for Louis who’s blushing and waving shyly. “So I thought now would be good as any time to just make it known that this beautiful, lovely boy is _mine._ Officially as possible or whatever. And I very much adore him. So there.”

Louis giggles, hiding his face in Harry’s arm, and breathing to him, “You’re so awkward.”

At this, Harry’s grins, “What else am I supposed to tell a lot of strangers and school kids? Do you want something more…dramatic, darling? Want me to shout it at the top of my lungs or summat?”

Raising his face, the boy grins impishly, “I dare you.”

Clearing his throat into the mic, Harry straightens a bit, then shouts, “LOUIS TOMLINSON IS MY BLOODY OMEGA, MY SUNSHINE, AND YOU ALL CAN PISS OFF AND FREEZE TO DEATH!”

As the Omega laughs, delighted, Harry’s pride skyrockets, and he’s grinning so wide his cheeks ache.

“Prove it!” someone in the crowd shouts back, and he’s ninety nine percent sure it’s Niall (doesn’t know that he’d invited any other obnoxious Irishman–then again, he doesn’t know any more about the people gathered before him) and the throng howls, cat-calls and chants, until Louis is chewing on his bottom lip, tempting him.

Carefully, Harry cups his face in both hands, and kisses his soft, slightly chapped mouth, short and sweet before Louis breaks away, leaning over the balcony to call, “THERE YA GO, NI! YOU PERVERT!”

“Ah, c’mon!”

“What kinda kiss was that?!”

“Like you mean it!”

“DON’T HOLD BACK! JUST GO FOR IT, LOUIS! YOU DA BOSS!” _Yeah right,_ Harry thinks, snorting at the last shout, wondering what idiot thinks _that bullshit._

“I am _not_ providing you creeps your evening porn! And neither is _my_ Omega for the matter,” the Alpha calls back, unable to help cheeky, dimpled grin that overcomes his mouth.

“C’mon, Haz, give ‘em their happy ending,” Louis whispers, turning to face him again, plush bottom lip caught between the points of his canines. In this moment, Harry knows bliss. Bliss is standing before him with feathery hair, a button nose, and thin, petal-soft lips. And he gazes longer than appropriate, ignoring the flashes all the while, until, _“Jesus Christ, kiss him already! The sexual tension is killin’ me!”_

Definitely Niall.

Shaking his head to rid his cluttered thoughts, Harry growls playfully, away from the mic, “Oh, love, you want too much.”

Blinking owlishly, the Omega states quietly, “Only you.”

 _Only you,_ Harry repeats this three more times inwardly as some sketchy emotions ripples through him. “I believe it.” _You’re the only one I’ll believe with those words–everyone else? Liars._

Without permission, Louis stretches, stepping on his boots (which doesn’t bother him as slim arms come around his neck) so they’re nose to nose, breath fanning with the cold. And he’s lost in Louis’s ocean eyes. “Let me love you.”

Releasing one, unsteady breath the Alpha decides he can give that to him–all else be damned. “Anything. As long as you’re happy. Anything.”

And the boy’s mouth is velvet against his, vulnerable, giving–in this moment Harry aches to remember his taste, memorise all those violent sweet things he’s said and will continue to say. Forgetting anything outside Louis, the Alpha kisses him back, forgiving, _wanting._

They take too much, give too much. There is no saving them–not from each other at least. And for now that’s perfectly fine.

♥

                Louis can’t grasp what’s happening around him, thoughtless, his mind is clouded with _HarryHarryHarry_ and that’s everything Louis cares to know anymore. Around the warm, comforting static in their atmosphere, the Omega thinks he hears applauds, maybe muffled _‘awe’s_ and ‘ _ew’s’,_ then, one demanding, aggressive, “ _Alright, alright! Shows over, getcha arses outta here! Move it, move it! Nothin’ to see here!_ ”

“They’re in love,” some girl screeches, causing the next round of cheers, and intrusive comments from that faraway place. Causes Harry to tear away, maneuvering him so he’s blocked by the Alpha’s frame, struggling to breathe evenly around the flowers that have seeded in his lungs. There’s so much commotion, the boy thinks in his daze, allowing Harry to hold him up, their gloved hands still locked.

But it’s quieting as music starts up, the song _‘Only Girl,’_ plays (which Niall had once proclaimed to be _their song_ though Louis’s never quite understood the appeal, but he’ll let Ireland have his fun). Evening his breaths, Louis squeezes Harry’s hand, senses returning in a rush as the Alpha releases his hands to pivot, facing him.

“Happy birthday, kitten,” the Alpha breathes, kissing him softly again. And again. And again until Louis’s hands end up tangled in his hair, and he’s stretching to kiss him back eagerly. “Thank you,” he breathes raggedly against his mouth.

“Make top ten birthday presents?”

“Number one,” the Omega responds, running his gloved fingers through the thick, soft of Harry’s waves. “You spoil me.”

“’S my job, remember?”

“Didn’t know extravagant birthday parties were in your job description,” Louis comments pertly, smiling gently.

“I make my own rules, I do what I want,” the Alpha murmurs cheekily, nosing at his cheek, “Shall we entertain our guests?”

Louis sniffles as winters chill pierces their space. “If we _must._ ”

“We can’t be shit hosts now can we?”

“Of course not,” the Omega agrees, determined as he intertwines their gloved hands once more, “All of our parties are going to be the talk of the town, love. Even the talk of the country.”

“LouisandHarry being the main attraction?” Harry asks lightly, then, vaguely, “Stairs or lift?”

“There’s an elevator?!” Louis asks thoughtfully. “What kinda place is this?”

“Just one more empty manor, the very bane of my existence, etcetera. When we move in together,” the Alpha starts, then seems to catch himself before completing the sentence. Beside him, Harry tenses while Louis’s heart sprouts wings and flutters elatedly.

“When we move in together…?” Louis prompts softly, not pressing, but… _hoping._

“When we move in together we are staying far, _far_ away from manors,” the Alpha finishes seconds-too-late, starting them down the steps. “How do you feel about…hmm, say a house on the countryside?”

Inside, the Omega melts, and wants to say something gooey, and sappy like, _“anywhere with you is where I want to be,_ ” but true to _his nonOmega_ side, Louis hops down some steps, allowing Harry to make sure he doesn’t fall, breathing, “I’d like that. With fields for Lilac to play! And flowers to pick! Oh! We can play with Lilac _together!_ And play fetch! I throw, you fetch.”

“Harry! Mate!”

“Oh my Gosh! They _came!_ ”

Around them, an audience grows, but Harry doesn’t seem to notice, continuing, “As much as I’d love to fetch, I think that’s more Lilac’s forte. And anyway, you’ll be able to make as much ruckus as you’d like.”

Excited, _in love,_ Louis grins, “As much as I’d like!? Noise! So I can wake you up with pots and pans?!”

“Pots, pans, kisses. Preferably kisses. Then we can make a mess of the kitchen. Every day.”

“You’re cleaning,” the Omega claims decisively, squeezing his hand, “And you’re doin’ laundry. And you’re cooking. And you’re picking up after me.”

“Proper housealpha material, I am.” And he’s amused, voice quiet and warm, thoughtful, like he’s fantasizing about this as certainly as Louis is.

“Yep. Meanwhile your man is going to play and have fun and be one of the _cool Omegas._ ”

“More like my _boy_ is, as he’s scarily flamboyant with the responsibilities of a pup,” he teases, and Louis _loves_ talking like this. Likes knowing that Harry knows he’s not going to clean much (because he’s messy and incapable of most of the household cleaning tasks), likes knowing Harry is going to cook for him (again, he’s incapable), and especially likes that he’ll be able to be _himself,_ and act on his free-fun nature. And he thinks, once again, that they are perfect for each other–adventurous, determined, perfect and invincible; a proper _powercouple._

Alas it’s short-lived as they’re bombarded by their guests, taking photos, answering questions, greeting them. There are so many diverse scents that Louis’s head begins to ache, and discomfort comes over him with all the additional attention though Harry wards off the panic, keeping him close, giving only short, polite recognition to their “fans”, pauses for photos, the likes. Sometime later they much have gotten at least partway through the manor, and the Alpha sighs, obviously annoyed, “Alright, ‘m bored of this. Are you?”

“No more pictures,” Louis agrees, nodding.

“Time to make our escape,” the Alpha whispers conspiratorially, urging him through the throng, ignoring more calls until they’re outside (judging by the cool, fresh air and the disparity of the noise as the walls aren’t pulsing with music) and rushing on the concrete. A while they walk and walk and walk, until, “Here we are,” Harry claims, guiding him forward, past some trees. There’s the serene sounds of rushing, splashing water, the only quiet in the entire estate (even so the noise is heard in the distance) and it’s slightly warmer here for some odd reason as they’re still outside. Already, Louis is fond of this place, appreciating the privacy, the intimacy it provides.

“What’s this?” he asks curiously, stretching one hand to find there is nothing to touch.

“Secret hide-out,” Harry murmurs, cheeky and pleased, taking back his hand. “It’s a garden of sorts. I dunno. ‘S just here, I suppose. Peaceful, lots of shrubbery, shaded. And there’s a pool not so far,” seeming to remember this, Harry takes his hand again, “A heated pool too.”

“Heated?” Louis is intrigued. “That means I can push you in and not get in trouble for it?”

“I will drag you in with me, little one,” Harry warns. Unfazed, Louis shrugs as Harry sits, taking Louis with him. There, seated on the ground, Louis leans into his side, mumbling, “I really love you, you know.”

At this the Alpha laughs, the sound hushed as to not disturb the idyllic nature. “Yeah? Love me enough to get in the pool?”

“Nope,” Louis grins, shaking his head, “Not that much, sorry. It’s too cold for that.”

“It’s _heated_ for a reason, kitten. Take off your shoes.”

Louis arches an artful brow defiantly. “No. I don’t believe you.”

“Take off your shoes and socks so you can feel for yourself,” the Alpha murmurs easily.

“No,” Louis repeats as the knowledge that he’s wearing stockings ( _which no_ ) returns to him. “I’m…quite content as I am, thank you.”

“C’mon, kitten,” the Alpha presses, rising to a sudden stance.

“No.”

“Reckon I’ll have to help you, then.” Without permission, he’s being lifted beneath the thighs and tossed gently over Harry’s shoulder–he’s almost scared Harry intends to toss him, but then the Alpha’s intentions become clear as one hand starts at Louis’s shoes, easing them away so they land on the ground with muted thuds.

“No!” Louis whines, hiding his face behind his hands. “Please, Haz, stop it!”

“Awe, kitten,” Harry chuckles, obviously having caught sight of the stockings, “Pale pink socks? What’s the occasion? Don’t be shy, baby, they’re cute.” And then those adroit fingers (where’d his gloves go?) are trying to tug the thin material away as Louis feels the soft, tight material shift against his upper thigh, and moans in complete mortification as Harry’s attempts cease.

Gripping his ankle, the Alpha runs one hand up underneath the loose material of his trousers, feeling the stocking–where Harry touches _tingles_. “What’s this?” he asks quietly, voice so husky that Louis is _sure_ Harry knows what _this_ is _._

Mirroring Louis’s horror, his Omega whines as his face tinges with heat though Louis remains silent until, “Kitten. Answer me.”

Moisture gathers in his blind eyes as Louis mumbles, voice muffled by his hands, “S-S-Stockings?”

“Stockings,” the Alpha repeats slowly, an incredulous note to his voice. “Where the hell did you get stockings from?”

“Where do you think?” he hisses touchily, then sighs, giving up, “Niall.”

“That _fucker,_ ” Harry snarls, releasing him swiftly. On his feet again, the Omega wobbles, curling his toes self-consciously, wishing desperately that he’d fought against the stockings. “Is he _trying_ to kill me?”

Toying with his fingers, keeping his head bowed low, Louis mumbles, “I wouldn’t put it beyond him.”

When the Alpha growls something under his breath, the Omega flinches, disappointed. “You don’t like…?”

Just like that, Harry’s towering over him, hands gripping his hips, scent thick between them, inebriating and dizzying. “Are you wearin’ panties, too?”

Cheeks warm, Louis gasps, then nods, because his Omega _knows_ that voice, knows what he’s going to get. “Yes,” the word is breathy.

“Fuck,” it’s another masculine growl, and Louis wants that sound to be muffled against his skin, wants to feel it _everywhere._ “Fuck, tell me you won’t be upset…Are you going to be upset if we ditch?”

 _No…_ Swallowing against the word, Louis turns his face, breathing shallow breaths, “Yes. You have to wine and dine me before you can get me in bed.” But part of him, the Omega part, is challenging the Alpha–wants to be dominated, to be persuaded into bed _now._

“Classy,” the Alpha breathes, carrying one hand up his side, _feeling,_ “But I don’t want classy right now…” his mouth brushes the Omega’s ear as he continues, the words a _secret_ between them, “I want _you…_ in my bed. Preferably only in panties and stockings.”

 _Oh._ The sensation of these words running through his bloodstream, Louis gasps, and Harry carries his hands up until Louis’s fingers are clutching the Alpha’s curls, yanking as Harry shudders against him. _Stop it; don’t give it up so easy, Lou,_ his Omega hisses, for once on Louis’s side. Blinking, the Omega fights the desire, twining Harry’s waves in his fingers rather than pulling. “That’s too bad, ‘cause you know it’s better to wait, yeah?”

There’s a throaty laugh. “Is every stupid thing I say going to come back to bite me often?”

“Teach you to say stupid things,” Louis breathes sweetly.

“I’ve learnt my lesson. I’ll take you to bed now.” So sure, so confident, so _hot–_ more than mostly anything Harry’s confidence…turns him on. But tonight it’s going _his_ way.

Shaking his head in sympathy, Louis takes his hands back to bat at his fringe, murmuring quietly, “You’re neglecting me, Haz. ‘M hungry. Feed me.”

“Of all the times,” Harry mutters, gripping his hand to guide him away from the serene, “you choose to be hungry…it’s _now?_ ”

“I don’t _choose_ to be hungry,” Louis responds lightly as possible.

“Alright,” the mollifying tone he’s taken on speaks measures, “So food then bed? Or bed _and_ food?”

“Food,” Louis allows, but, “then drinks, then dancing. And _then_ maybe if you’re lucky, bed.”

“You’ve gatta sleep sometime,” the Alpha mutters, snaking an arm around Louis’s waist, so he’s walking ahead of him now, and his erection is pressed tight against Louis’s lower back as he guides them through the crowd. At the thick, hot, feel, Louis leans his head back onto Harry’s shoulder, asking breathily, “Are we going to bed to sleep?”

“If you’re _lucky,”_ Harry growls, splaying his ridiculously large hand over the span of Louis’s belly, holding them _tighter_ together. “If not…”

“ _Oh,_ ” Louis gasps, then moans, lashes fluttering as the desire heightens, and he’s hard in his trousers, aching, and begging to be touched. “I-If not…?”

“Oh, love,” the Alpha chuckles, irritatingly satisfied. “Not likely. You’re such a little tease. And I don’t think I like it.”

Inside, his Omega whines, upset at this as Louis pouts, muttering, “You’re so egotistical. Maybe I want to enjoy my party? Ever thought of that?”

Grinding against his back, Harry murmurs, “I don’t think so. I think, kitten, that you’re getting wet just thinkin’ about letting me fuck you.” _Fuck me…?_

Louis’s mouth parts, heart racing as he struggles to hold his composure. “Let me enjoy my party, wanker.”

“We could enjoy it in the bedroom,” Harry suggests, the hand at his hip shifts to his fingers hook into Louis’s trousers, toying with the lace trim of his panties. _Yes, yes, yes,_ his body screams, begging with more heat. “Hell yeah, we could fuckin’ enjoy it. You know you want it as much as I want to give it to you.”

Louis bites his bottom lip, stifling his answering moan. “Why…” he breathes seconds-too-late, “Why suddenly are you so eager?”

“Because,” Harry breathes, rough and coarse, “Want it before you’re up to peak.” Abruptly, their movements halt, then he’s being taken through doors where it’s noisy, bustling with clutters and sizzling. Here, it smells _delicious,_ and Louis realises that he actually _is_ very hungry. It’s been a while since his last proper meal, snacks excluded.

Remaining tight against him, Harry snaps his fingers at someone passing, then asks, “Lou, what do you want to eat?”

“Um,” the Omega fumbles on the spot, “Um, popcorn?”

“Popcorn?” Harry asks, incredulous.

“Popcorn,” Louis nods, confirming his blurted words. “Caramelized popcorn. And tacos. And chocolate strawberries please.”

A second of quiet passes where Louis thinks Harry’s going to press him into eating something “ _healthy”_ but then that harsh, commanding tone returns, never directed at him, “Well you heard ‘im. I want it done within the hour.”

“Yes, Sir,” the stopped bloke murmurs, then starts away, towards the uproar (Louis assumes). Slightly put out, Louis turns, then shoves as Harry’s shoulder, “You, Mr., need to work on your manners.”

“I am not feeling especially tolerant at the moment,” Harry mutters.

Louis flushes hot, realising, “’Cause I’m not givin’ it up to you?”

Growling low in his throat, the Alpha closes in on him again. “When I get you in that bedroom,” harsh, urgent, _want,_ “I am going to–,”

Someone clears their throat, and Louis attempts to scramble away, flushing even as Harry tucks him into his side, turning to the intruder. “Sorry, Sir,” someone, a girl _,_ apologises.

“Cassie, right?” Harry asks, and it’s like he wasn’t about to go ‘ _Alpha caveman’_ on him, that charming tone replacing the gravel to his voice (it’s there; at least Louis can still recognise it).

“Y-Yes,’ the poor girl sounds so embarrassed, so _taken,_ that Louis feels for her (even as his Omega hisses, unimpressed). Harry Styles has that alarming affect on everyone. “I was, uh, sent up to ask if we’re supposed to open the gates to the newly arrived?”

“No, we have enough… _people._ Tell them to fuck–,”

“Haz,” Louis hisses, tugging on his arm, “Manners.”

“Please,” Harry adds, sounding exasperated, “Tell them they’re too late. And if they refuse to leave then send out security.”

“Cheers!” Louis chirps when Harry obviously has no intentions to.

And when Cassie shuffles away, Louis shakes his head, disapproving, “Hazza, love, honestly you need to be a bit more polite to people.”

“Fuck them,” Harry growls, the voice extremely pronounced now, the Alpha returning, “Unless I get you into bed in the next five minutes everyone is going to be on my bad fuckin’ side.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Louis murmurs, trying to seem unimpressed despite the way his heart flutters. “Because I’m not going to bed any time soon.”

Without answering, the Alpha takes his hand and takes him somewhere more secluded, which can’t be good. In the quiet, Harry breathes, husky, _persuasive,_ “Louis.”

At the sound of his name, Louis’s insides melt, and he doesn’t fight the hands gentling on his hips, reeling him in. “You’ve teased me enough…”

Louis shakes his head feebly; lifting his hands, curling his fingers at Harry’s ticking jaw. “Haz, you’ve never wanted me this way before. And quite frankly I think it’s terrible timing.”

“Are you going to make me beg?” And Louis is soft against the solid of Harry, breathing skeptically, “Are you really going to beg?”

“If I have to, I’m prepared to.”

And as Louis’s breath hitches, two fingers tip his face, and their mouths brush and tempt, warm, teasing, _holding back._ Anticipation burns between them, some warm current attracting them. And _yes,_ the Omega wants this more than Harry does, but he’s going to make the Alpha wait like he’s been _waiting_ for weeks. “You want it that badly?”

“Yeah,” his breath is hot against Louis’s mouth before Harry kisses him softly again, only once. _More._ “Yeah, that badly.”

“But you won’t make me give it?”

Seeming to lose his composure the Alpha tenses, then growls, kissing him _hard_ as those canines lock over Louis’s bottom lip. At the sting, Louis whines, and reacting to the sound Harry releases his flesh, sucking on his bottom lip, licking and his head is swimming with the taste and the white-hot pleasure the tugging brings. “Like you would listen,” Harry growls, separating them to catch his breath as Louis pants, “You don’t fuckin’ listen.”

“Is...that...bad?”

“No,” it’s an amused breath as Harry relaxes, bringing him in again, “Fuck _no._ Not with you. I like workin’ for it. Just want it so fuckin’ bad right now. I can smell how close you are. How _ready_ you’re going to be to bear my pups. And I give it three weeks…So I have _now_ to get you in bed...’Cause this is the last time until…until after.”

At the reminder, his Omega whimpers, and cruel tears sting in Louis’s eyes as he turns his face again as to hide how much those words hurt him. _Until after…No…no…_ “You can take me to bed,” his voice is small, meek, “After I eat, have my drink, and my dance.”

Fingers grip his jaw, forcing him to face Harry again, though he keeps his eyes shut, guarding well. “What’s wrong?”

“’M hungry,” Louis lies, voice breaking ridiculously. _I want you to take care of me…I’m scared, and I need you._

“Sit,” Harry orders, pulling out a chair Louis hadn’t known was there. Obedient, the Omega does do, letting him push his chair in, then smiling weakly in his direction as Harry continues, “Give me a second. I’ll be right back.”

Without giving him the chance to answer, the Alpha starts away. Alone, the Omega rests his face in one hand, sighing, and trying to stifle his Omega’s inward turmoil. Not tonight, he pleads with that side of him, we’ll worry about that when the time comes. But he knows better than to think Harry will take care of him through his heat. Even though his Omega didn’t, and doesn’t want to believe this, heartbroken. Louis feels for that side of him, because naturally he’s a bit heartbroken too.

“Alright,” the Alpha returns suddenly, and Louis takes his arm back as someone places a dish before him, and then scurries away. It’s very hot, and smells delicious. Grateful, Louis smiles as Harry mutters, “Tacos. Chicken. I hope that works ‘cause the idiots didn’t have the mind to make others. If not I’ll have make more, and then I’ll fire them.”

Louis gapes at the table, shocked at how… _mean_ Harry can be sometimes. Yet…it doesn’t matter much to him because the Alpha’s _always_ treated Louis like nobody else has…No, Harry treats him like he _cherishes_ him despite it all. One of the many reasons Louis’s head over heels in love with him.

“’S perfect,” the Omega whispers hastily as to make sure those poor souls won’t have to come into contact with sexually deprived Alphaboy, smiling secretly at the thought.

“Eat.”

“Don’t rush me,” Louis mumbles, sticking his tongue out before clumsily picking up one of the neatly folded tacos, grateful that none of the contents falls out as he takes a bite, moaning happily at the taste. It’s not spicy, but it’s not bland, it’s _delectable._ Though he’d meant to take his sweet time, Louis devours three tacos quickly, having been famished, then sips at the drink that’s been placed beside the dish. Refreshing water.

Once he’s finished, wiping at his mouth and hands, the Omega realises the Alpha’s been watching him eat and blushes.

“You’re breathtaking.”

“When ‘m stuffing my face?” Louis snorts, self-conscious even as butterflies soar _everywhere._

“Always. I like watching you eat. Want to make sure you’re taken care of.” _Such an Alpha._

Louis swallows another sip of water to gather his wits. Still, the only words he can find are, “I’m full, thank you.”

“Now bed?” the Alpha asks, taking his hand on the table and tangling their fingers.

Louis giggles, “No, Hazza! Drinks and dancing! Then bed!”

“But…that’s so bloody far away,” there’s this adorably whiney note to Harry’s voice. “And all I can think about is the lingerie.”

“Your attention span is histrionically limited,” Louis comments, placing the water down softly. When the Alpha’s boot taps his left foot, Louis flushes, realising all too late that his shoes are still missing.

“We forgot my shoes,” Louis whispers, wiggling his toes in the stockings.

“How unfortunate,” Harry murmurs, the satisfaction seeping from his husky voice.

“Get them for one.”

“What do I get for this?”

“Well…” Louis starts nonchalantly, “For once, ‘m not leaving this table until my shoes are on my feet. And if I don’t leave this table, that means no dancing. And if there’s no dancing…well, there’s no bed.”

There’s an irritated breath that spreads fulfillment through Louis as the boy smiles sweetly, “Get my shoes for me please baby.”

“’M not your lapdog.”

“No,” Louis agrees, placating because he knows how to get his way by now. “Imagine everyone sees my stocking clad feet…I don’t think you’ll be the only one thinkin’ bout what’s underneath my clothes. But, you get my shoes, nobody sees, _and_ you can take me to bed…”’

“God fuckin’ damn it, Lou,” Harry mutters, but his chair protests as he backs away to a stance. “Fine. I’ll be right back.”

Nodding, the Omega reminds, “And don’t forget my popcorn or the strawberries.”

Without acknowledging his words, the Alpha storms away, and only when his footsteps have faded does Louis allow the giggle bubbling up inside him to escape his lips. Seconds pass when his popcorn is brought to the table, as well as the strawberries which Louis thanks the waitress, wondering all the while if Harry specifically sent an Omega (figuring it’s not beyond his possessive, protective Alpha).

As he waits, Louis swings his legs back and forth as they’re not quite touching the ground, picking at the sticky caramelized popcorn and humming contentedly to the music in the distance as he licks his fingers. When the sweet becomes too much, Louis picks a strawberry from the batch placed beside the popcorn bag, taking small bites and moaning at the fruity taste, chewing at the same moment Harry returns.

“Seems my brat is enjoying himself.”

Louis grins and nods, busy taking another bite from the strawberry to really respond. Like he weighs nothing, the Alpha pulls out his seat and turns it so he’s kneeling before him, gently putting on his right shoe and tying the laces swiftly.

“You’re right,” Harry murmurs casually, finishing up on his left shoe now, “I did not want anyone to see these. Only for my eyes.”

“Do you have a foot fetish?” Louis wonders curiously as Harry releases his foot.

“Not at all,” Harry snorts, amused, “I have a Louis fetish.”

Giggling, the boy plucks another strawberry and holds it out to him, “Wanna bite?”

When the Alpha bites into the strawberry, the Omega beams, “Good right?”

“Not nearly as good as–,” pausing, Harry stands, then leans forward, bracing his hands on the chair, closing in on him so Louis’s flat against the back of his seat. “Not nearly as good as you,” Harry breathes, nosing at his cheek. Heart racing, Louis lets his eyes fall shut, dropping the strawberry somewhere to tangle his hands in Harry’s button-up.

When the Alpha’s mouth brushes his ear, the Omega makes a little sound in the back of his throat, tugging the Alpha’s shirt, bringing him in, spreading his legs on the chair. And he craves to be kissed–his mouth is begging for it, parted, sticky wet from the strawberries.

“Let me take you to bed…” Harry breathes, voice soft, pleading against his jaw now. “I’ll throw you another party. I’ll throw you millions. Just let me take you to bed now.”

A whimper threatens to escape his mouth as Louis struggles to breathe around the scent clouding his senses. “N-No,” he manages, nearly panting as he releases his grip to smooth his hands down Harry’s shirt. “One dance. Just one and then you can take me to bed.”

Shuddering beneath his touch, Harry backs up, then murmurs tightly, “Finish up.”

“’M done,” the boy whispers, standing smoothly despite how his knees shake.

“Alright, let’s get you that drink then.”

Confused, Louis blinks, mumbling, “But I thought–?”

“You can have whatever you like, Lou,” the Alpha sounds exasperating, taking his hand softly. “C’mon then, what do you wanna drink? Apple juice? Sweet tea? Baby formula perhaps?”

Louis fights an altogether pleased grin, huffing, “Oh shut up! Actually, I was thinkin’…wine? That’s classy, yeah?”

“Anything’s classy as long as I get you into bed afterwards,” Harry allows as Louis loops their arms so he’s tight against his side as they walk. Their conversation is insignificant and inaudible under the roars of others so Louis’s next words don’t scar him for life, “So come is classy then?”

At this, the Alpha easy pace falters, and they’re stumbling into people as Louis giggles into his hand, delighted to have shocked Harry this way.

“Have your fun now,” Harry growls, just barely managing to balance them. “But when we get in that bedroom I am going to have _my_ –,” With the words, Louis’s breath hitches, caught in his throat as more heat pools in his belly, and the last words threaten to break him but–, “LOUIS!” someone in the crowd shrieks, and the boy jumps, startled and flushing in embarrassment. Then his best mate is crushing him in an embrace, “LOUIS LOUIS LOUIS! I NEED YOU, BABE! I NEED YOU!”

It’s apparent the Irish boy has already started drinking as he’s giggling breathlessly and tugging on Louis’s arm, attempting to lead him away. Torn, Louis pleads, “Ni, please, I–,” _need this…need Harry. Now._

“I need him, too, Niall,” Harry claims tightly, gripping his wrist to come up behind him. There, the bulge in his trousers is pressed to Louis’s back again, and the boy wants to whimper, riptides of _heat_ coming over him, sending a warm flush over his skin. And he’s _flaming,_ on _fire,_ and he _wants it–needs it_ more than anything in the world. Desperate to bend over somewhere and take it. Desperate to–,

“It’ll be quick!” Niall interrupts his Omega’s vicious cravings, tugging again. “I promise to bring him right back!”

“Haz,” Louis whines desperately, trying to sink back into him, because he might burst into tears if he doesn’t get what his body craves. Just…he hadn’t reckoned on being separated, and the threat is _hot_ inside him, branding his insides, and _nonono._ “Please, just take me to bed.”

“Now you want it,” the Alpha growls…and lets him go. Tears gather in his eyes as Louis’s dragged away by Niall, who’s talking animatedly about something Louis’s mind blurs out.

“LOU!” Niall screeches in his ear, bringing him back. “FUCKING CUNT, WILL YOU LISTEN TO ME?”

Louis blinks, then shakes his head, forcing his body to calm down, his Omega to relax, as he mumbles, “What is it?”

Halting, the Irish boy says, “Okay, this is important.”

Louis sighs impatiently. “Go on.”

“I think…I think I want to have a three some.” _Three some? With like other people?_

“What?!” the Omega sputters, confused and shocked. “What are you talking about?!”

“Alright, alright, so I’ve been…meaning to spice up my sex life a bit–,”

“Niall, you brought me here to talk about spicing your sex life by cock-blocking mine?!”

“I…What?!” Though he’s feigning innocence, Louis knows Niall Horan better by now.

“Yes, idiot,” Louis groans, snatching his hand back and crossing his arms. “Don’t act like this wasn’t part of your evil scheme! Dressin’ me up! You knew I was going to be…with Hazza tonight. I don’t understand why you’re talking to me– _me! Like I know anything!–_ about your desire to have a…whatever you called it.”

“A threesome," Niall reminds easily, then,  "And I was thinking…maybe…you know, you could share Harry? Just for one night?”

Horrified, furious, Louis gapes, then tries to cuff the Irish boy, annoyance building inside him. “I am going to _kill you!!”_

But Niall begins to laugh, like the little twat he is. “Oh my God! You should’ve seen your face!! Oh, wait, well, you know what I mean! Anyway, I was only jokin’ Lou! I hardly want…that _thing!_ What I really wanted to know is whether you think I should give it up tonight, too? Josh has been…” This starts it as Niall prattles on and on.

Louis pretends to listen, but quickly grows restless, and is going to tell Niall to do what feels right when someone comes up behind him. And his Omega is so very attuned to this scent, one he’s only ever reacted to, thick and compelling as Harry grabs his wrists, breathes on his throat, sends shivers up his spine. “I’ve come to rescue you.”

“My knight in shining armor,” Louis breathes, the sparks returning with the proximity.

“Hey!” Niall protests when Harry turns him, leaning forward as Louis raises his face, their mouths meet, desperate, clinging as the Alpha’s tongue sweeps across his bottom lip and the boy’s hands tangle in his hair. Louis can feel him, hard against his belly, large and hot and bulging and Louis can’t _breathe_ around the want. _More._ “I wasn’t finished!”

“Sorry, Ireland,” Harry replies idly, parting them, “I have some unfinished business to settle with my Omega.”

“But–,” the Irish lad sounds so upset that Louis turns to face him, hoping his features convey how desperate he is at this point. “Please, Ni. Just…do what feels right. If you want your Alpha, have him.”

“Just take as much as you give,” Harry advises, circling Louis’s waist as the boy begins to mouth at his throat; wet, urgent, hot, running his tongue along the Alpha’s skin. _Yes._

“YOU TWO ARE ABOUT TO FUCK AS WE SPEAK! LOUIS IS OVER HERE SNOGGING YOUR THROAT AND ‘M IN THE MIDDLE OF A SEXUAL CRISIS AND ALL YOU TWO CAN THINK ABOUT ARE YOUR COCKS!”

Louis whines low in his throat, clutching the Alpha’s waves. “Take me to bed, Haz, take me to bed.”

“Sorry, Ireland. Kitten gets what kitten wants.” And then they’re moving, his best mates shout following as Louis goes with Harry’s deliberate steps through the crowd. They’re circling again, strolling when Louis realises they’re not making much progress. “What are we doin’?” he asks, pouting.

“Dancin’ our way to the bedroom.”

“Oh,” he breathes, following the slow, smooth, steady rhythm the best he can with how he’s feeling right now. “My dance?”

“Your dance,” Harry seconds, twirling them once again, and Louis sighs, resting his head on the Alpha’s shoulder, listening to the slow, slow song and wondering all the while what’s playing, but not caring because he’s feeling floaty and faraway and warm and so so happy but _nowhere near sated._

They’re progressing, but far too slowly, and Louis finds himself kissing his way up Harry’s throat, so many soft, pleading kisses, begging with his mouth until the Alpha curses in surrender, hitching him so that Louis loses balance. Before he falls, the Omega is being lifted, giggling breathlessly as Harry curses again, growling and shoving his way past the guests surrounding them.

And by the movements they’re ascending the stairs again, meanwhile one hand is removing Louis’s right shoe. Letting this happen, Louis listens to its muted plunk when it meets the floor. “Yes,” he breathes eagerly, “Take me to bed.”

Growling low in his throat, the pace quickens, and the Omega thinks he’s going to have to tease him more often if he’s going to get his way so quick. The next shoe is more of a struggle, but when it’s finally removed, Louis sighs, then giggles, wriggling his toes, “So eager to get me undressed. What’s the rush?”

“The rush,” the Alpha snarls, voice rough, “The rush is that I’ve been waiting to get you in bed all fuckin’ night. You’re been a little _tease_ all night, leaving me wanting all night. Now…Now I’m going to take.”

At the confidence, the _command_ in his voice, Louis’s lashes flutter and he’s so dizzy the blood must be rushing to his head. “Onward, trusty steed,” he jokes weakly.

And the journey feels so long until Harry’s setting him on his feet again as he begins to fumble around in search or something. “So are you really going to make love to me tonight?” he asks breathily as a _beep_ welcomes them, and the door opens, Harry dragging him inside not seconds after, “Or were you talkin’ shit again?”

“Oh we’re hardly goin’ to fuck,” Harry murmurs, shutting the door with another _beep,_ then the locks sound, “But you’re going to be in that bed tonight. Underneath me.”

Swaying, the Omega struggles to stand, lightheaded but unwilling to show this, stumbling about the bedroom, surveying it’s layout with his hands, finding there’s an outrageously large bed frame to the centre. _Perfect._ Smiling, Louis sighs, “Maybe I don’t want to sleep…maybe I want to be downstairs enjoying my party.”

“Good thing we’re not sleeping,” the Alpha states quietly, “And the party is right here, baby.” And the Alpha is prowling towards him, easy and rapid, giving the boy little time to breathe, “Wait, wait…”

With the Alpha pauses, exhaling heavily, Louis licks his lips nervously, “It’s…It’s my birthday, and…and what I say goes today, yeah?”

“That doesn’t sound comforting,” Harry mutters darkly.

“Well…” Louis breathes, “There’s something…else I want.”

“Explain.”

Face warm, Louis lowers his eyes, breathing, “I think…I think that I deserve my punishment now.”

“What.”

“My punishment,” the boy repeats, voice soft and meek.

“Why tonight? I don’t want to ruin your birthday, Lou.”

The blush burns bright now as his hands tangle before him. “I want to know. I want to know what it’s going to be like…Please, this is what I want. I trust you. Give me this.”

“I…Just…I don’t trust me. I don’t want to hurt you. Especially not on a day like this…I don’t want to hurt you to the point of no forgiveness. I don’t want you to make me leave again if I do.”

 _Oh, baby,_ Louis thinks sadly, _I’m not going anywhere._

“You won’t,” the Omega says firmly–knowing the Alpha will mistake his guilt for pity. “You won’t hurt me like that. Give me this. Please. This is all I want. You and _this_.”

Wordless, the Alpha walks slowly to what must be the bed, and when he speaks again his voice has changed, it’s deceptively calm, intensely Alpha. “C’mere,” Harry commands huskily, “Let me see you then.”

Nervous, blushing, the hands at his belly tighten, but Louis nods, scurrying forward obediently to where Harry sits at the end of the mattress (this is one of the reminders that Harry lives luxuriously). Timidly, Louis stands there, shivers running through him as those intense eyes study him. The current spikes between them, _charged, electric._

Unsettlingly large hands come to rest on his hips, tugging him steps nearer. “All of you, kitten. ‘M going to remove these.” There’s no questioning, no hesitance as Harry’s attention moves to his front, where he’s achy against his trousers. Helpless, Louis tilts his head, mewling softly as careful digits undo his trousers, showing the zip down. So slowly, the Alpha tugs his trousers down his thighs, revealing the panties, the stockings, as Louis’s breathing turns frantic with every fresh inch of bared skin.

Inside his Omega is screaming at him to run–to stay, to _do something._ But his Omega is exactly that, an _Omega,_ and won’t act without a direct order from his Alpha. Motionless, Louis doesn’t resist when Harry guides his leg up to pull the trouser-leg away, then onto the next, until he’s standing there in his (suddenly) too-tight T-shirt, skin-tight stockings reaching mid-thigh, and revealing lace that scarcely covers his achy arousal.

“Fuck,” the Alpha growls, fingers toying with the trim of the stocking at his thigh, “You’re… _fuck._ ”

Self-conscious under the Alpha’s burning gaze, Louis can’t help but squirm, the movement ceasing instantly when Harry grips his hips forcefully. “Stay still.”

“W-What colour?” the boy manages, mostly to distract Harry as his hands inch towards his front–being exposed this way is intimidating and slightly demeaning. But the way the Alpha’s stare feels on his flushed skin… _burns him,_ causes the heat inside to spike and it’s so sexy Louis can’t control his body’s need.

Growling in warning, the Alpha’s fingers circle both his wrists. “Am I going to have to bind these? Or can you _behave?_ ”

Unable to find his voice, the Omega shakes his head frantically, fisting his hands as to let his nails bite into the skin of his palms in silent punishment. “Enough. None of that. It’s my job to punish you,” Harry murmurs quietly, uncurling his fingers to place gentle, comforting kisses to his palms. Under the attention, Louis sways–feeling his Alphas affection sends the burn into an overwhelming ember. “You’re so pretty, kitten. So, so pretty all dressed up. ‘S hardly fair to any of the other Omegas.”

At the praise, his Omega whines, hips twitching as his skin tingles and down there throbs and the aching sensation sends the ember up his spine. And the Alpha is what’s keeping him upright, forcing him to remain standing though he _needs_ to crawl into his lap and rut against him until the sparks come apart in his belly.

“Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. All smooth soft skin…pale pink lacey stockings, panties. I like the colour on you–makes you look that much more delicate. I could wreck you.”

 _Wreck me?_ Louis thinks again, confused and curious. Somehow that doesn’t sound like such an awful thing–then again, compared to being spanked, anything seems decent. Reminded of his impending punishment, Louis regains some sense, finds his voice.

“’M not pretty,” the boy mumbles petulantly, “Boys aren’t pretty.”

“You are. I say so. And what I say goes, understood?”

Willful, Louis turns his face, and realises all too late, when Harry growls that deep deep deep intimidating sound, rising to a stance and gripping his cheek and jaw in one hand, that he’s provoking him. “Oh, kitten, what are we going to do about this?” The question is rough, demanding as the Alpha strokes his trembling bottom lip, bathing him in another wave of heat. “Seems you’re forgetting who the Alpha is here? I’ll remind you soon enough. For now…You. Are. So. Fucking. Pretty.”

As his lashes flutter shut, Louis blurts stupidly, “’M not. Boys aren’t pretty.”

Lessing his grip on Louis’s face, Harry noses at his throat, meltingly seductive, “You’re so pretty…Supposedly boys don’t wear panties, or,” his hand drifts to Louis’s thigh, gripping the flesh, toying with the lace trim of the stocking–Louis feels this _everywhere,_ shivers run up his spine as his blood sizzles through his veins, “stockings. Yet here we are…Stockings. Panties. _Pretty._ ”

_Oh…Yes._

Wanting, desperate, Louis struggles to breathe, heart fluttering wildly, stiflingly searing desire blazing bright, burning him from the inside out. As the Alpha’s mouth ghosts down his throat, one large hand finds the Omegas bum, softly fondling him, stroking his soft, full flesh. Mewling, Louis’s freed hand starts towards his front again, going to touch and touch and touch until–

Without warning the hand leaves, and Louis tilts his head, mewling in protest, except it’s seconds later that the Alpha’s hand returns, landing on his flesh, _slapping him,_ hard. _Ouch!_ “No. Touching.” At the abrupt shock, Louis’s eyes spring open and he blindly tries to step away (beyond confused), but before he can, he’s being tugged forward, maneuvered swiftly into Harry’s lap, arse bared completely. With the Alpha’s hand between his shoulders, holding him down, Louis’s bum is hiked a bit so his arousal isn’t pressed to Harry’s legs, and the complete lack of sensation causes him to whine low in his throat.

Unable to breathe, his body’s wound up, hyperaware of the whisper-soft sensation that returns when Harry’s hand caresses his bum, where he’d been hit, soft and gentle and deceptive enough that Louis relaxes, hiding his face in the bed-sheets. Helpless, trussed up at his Alpha’s mercy, Louis lets this happen, lets the Alpha strike him again, slightly to the side of his bum, and again, gasping as the fire rises, fringe sticking to his forehead.

It _hurts_ –but the pains unlike the pain any he’s experienced before. It’s intense, bringing flashes of blazing low-tides through his entire Omega body, connecting directly with the ache in his belly.

Around the thrumming of his heart, Louis hears absolutely _nothing,_ not the desperate sounds escaping him with every stinging contact against his arse. Every time the Alphas palm gentles across his flesh, the boys insides contract deliciously until the needling slap uncoils the ache in his belly, or force it tense until the pressure might come apart into millions of minds-shattering pieces. But he’s so desperate to feel better that he can’t know.

“’Arry,” is the only coherent word leaving his mouth as he gasps, crying softly, cheeks flushed sticky and wet with oozing tears. And he’s grinding down on Harry’s lap, whining low in his throat _“uh uh uh”_ with every drag of the lace against his arousal, crossing his ankles tight unconsciously to draw more pressure between his legs.

“ _Please,_ ” Louis begs shamelessly, surrendering to the rhythm of the blows, absorbing each one, savoring the bite of painful pleasure. Another sharp strike–the sound of skin meeting skin reaching past his frantic heart, so sexual that his hips stutter against Harry’s thigh, eyes pinched shut as his mouth forms an _‘o’,_ the coils coming together vividly in his belly, flames triggered straight through his abdomen to the throbbing length in his panties.

“Go ahead, kitten,” the Alpha strokes his arse, lithe fingers toying with the garments edge. _Yesyesyes._ “Ten more and you’ll come again.” Just like that the energy flares and comes apart as Louis screams into the bed-sheets, colliding with the intensity as whimpers leave with every frantic breath, feeling the obscenity of the liquid pulsing through him, sticky in his panties, leaking past his thighs to Harry’s legs.

There’s no recovery time as Harry curls his left hand round Louis’s waist, holding him in place despite the shivers running through his entire body. Louis whines softly, shaking his head wildly against the sheets even as the next has bears down on his sore arse again. Gasping, the boy tries to shy away from the contact but the Alpha growls, “Keep still.”

Going pliant, the Omega clutches the sheets in aching fingers, listening as Harry repeats quietly, so very composed, “Ten more, alright? Then you can come again, lovely. You’ve been such a good boy. Just ten more.” And his head swims as he listens to Harry count the quick, successive spankings, gasping through every single _slap_ until they’ve reached seven and the twinge in his belly is twined vines again, heat and pleasure and _moremoremore_ spiraling in his blood, through his veins to his fingertip and his toes and _especially_ where he’s hard again.

Pausing, the Alpha’s hands travel down the backs of his thighs, stroking, kneading, teasing the material of his stockings until Louis’s panting embarrassingly loud, perking his burning bum out (wishing the lace wasn’t there as the material sends phantom shocks over his sensitive flesh) in silent request.

Inhaling sharply, Harry’s fingers bite into the soft skin of his thighs, and the boy’s mouth opens, but his voice isn’t working. “So fuckin’ pretty, kitten. So fucking gorgeous. Can you be a good boy for me and wait until ten? We’re going to make it seventeen, for your birthday, yeah?”

 _Please._ Unable to speak, Louis wiggles his arse again–breathing frenetic, quick little breaths.

“Kitten,” the Alpha growls, the sound rough, full of threats as another forceful hand slaps Louis’s right cheek again. It’s so abrupt that his entire body slumps, giving underneath the force as a gasp whispers from his throat. “Answer me.”

“ _Yes,_ ” the boy whimpers, more scalding tears spilling down his cheeks, “Y-Yes, Alpha, yes. ‘M good. A good boy. Please, please…”

“Mmm…Alright, you can have your way this time.” Without hesitation, the Alpha’s hand lands hard, the slaps come quick, sharp, in the exact same spot on his arse each time as Louis moans, desire clawing in his belly down to his abdomen and his arousal and _“yesyesyes”._

“Ten.” The rough, masculine pride in his Alpha’s voice triggers his next orgasm–the mind-blowing sensation stuns all his operating senses, obliterating what’s happening outside his body as the boy writhes and moans. And his mind’s gone _light light light_ and fuzzy as the pleasure caresses his skin and his insides. Floaty, unaware, vulnerable and unable to do anything _but feel._

Sure, careful fingers run over his flushed flesh and Louis wants to flinch away from the stingy touch but he can’t seem to remember how to function. “Come back, kitten,” Harry murmurs, the Alpha timbre lacing the order. “We’re not finished.”

 _Harry…Alpha…orgasm…sensitive…_ In protest, the Omega whines, but forces his limbs to function through sheer will as he squirms in Harry’s lap, then smiles hazily at the feel of the bulge pressed tight to his belly. “Happy to see me?” he breathes as those skilled digits brush his damp fringe from his face.

“Extremely happy,” the Alpha growls playfully, stroking his arse again. At the sensation, Louis winces, shying from the touch instinctively.

“Stings,” he explains breathlessly when Harry grips his thigh as to stop the motion.

“Mmm,” now his Alpha is smug, male pride in the husky sound. “Want me to make it feel better?”

As his eyebrows furrow, Louis opens his mouth to ask, but the Alpha shifts, urging him onto the mattress, flattened on his belly. Pouting, the Omega sighs when Harry stands, then dips down to brush their noses, “Wait.”

Then the Alpha goes to leave–panic drives through his haze as Louis scrambles to his knees, hands tangling in Harry’s shirt, already unbuttoned so his fingernails scrape at his chest. “N-No. Don’t go.”

Laughing huskily, Harry’s hands close over his, prying his shirt free before leaning forward to nuzzle Louis’s throat, “Hush. ‘M not going far, kitten. Just going to grab aloe to help the sting. And a wet rag to clean you, filthy boy.”

Louis swallows around the panic, double checking vulnerably, “And you’re coming right back?”

“Right back, baby,” the words are soft, soothing as Harry’s canines run along his jaw. Reluctantly, the Omega relaxes a bit, lowering his trembling hands to his sticky panties, impatient to remove them now.

“Hurry up, please,” he whispers, then plops onto his belly again, sighing low in his throat when the Alpha kisses his temple, then listening intently to his fading footsteps. Some connecting door opens, then there’s fumbling and vague noises before Harry returns, one hand grasping his ankle to drag him down the bed.

Struggling against him, Louis shrieks and giggles, grabbing a pillow and throwing it in his direction, “Let me go!” he yelps, kicking his legs as Harry tugs again, then growls, turning him onto his back abruptly. Wincing, Louis’s face scrunches at the soreness, but then Harry’s braced over him, distracting and overwhelming, breathing, “Hello there.”

Mouth parting to release little breaths, Louis mumbles timidly, “Hi.” Without permission, his hand raises, and his trembling fingers run along Harry’s jawline, to his throat, “You hurt my bum, Alpha.”

“You liked it,” the Alpha states, an award-worthy grin in his voice. “I don’t know that it’s proper punishment when you liked it.”

Lifting his blind gaze, Louis makes sure to keep his eyes wide, bating his lashes coyly, “I did not like that. You disgust me. Yuck.”

With that charming, boyish laugh the Alpha noses at his cheek, lowering his weight so Louis’s bum is against the mattress again (he bites his bottom lip against another wince). “Mmm, I don’t think so. I think you quite enjoyed that.”

Heavy, the Alpha is so _heavy,_ solid, long and _heavy_ tight, and Louis is so soft and small against him, wiggling his hips provocatively. “I think _you_ quite enjoyed that.”

“You know I did. Enjoyed leaving my handprints on your sexy arse, listening to you make those sexy noises. So fuckin’ sexy, but you know what I missed out on?” When the Alpha’s hand sneaks between them, parting his thighs so Harry’s hips are wedged between his legs, Louis gasps, melting beneath him, stocking-clad legs binding around his waist impulsively. “W-W-What?”

“Watching you. Those gorgeous eyes. Missed out on watching your pleasure. I want to see that,” the Alpha breathes hungrily, flexing his hips.

Helpless, Louis’s lashes flutter, and he tips his head back into the mattress, gyrating his hips as he’s instantly achy again, and so sore, and _nonono, not again._ Too much, too soon. “No,” the Omega breathes, shaking his head feebly. “I can’t…Can’t.”

“I think you can…Won’t take much, will it, kitten?”

When the boy tries to dispute, his words aren’t cohesive, starting with “ _Haz,”_ and progressing into, _“Alpha,”_ and “ _love,”_ with bouts of scattered words between each. Mewling, Louis circles his hips, mouth parted to release another broken sound when Harry’s hips meet his. And they’re _burning,_ pressed together through lace and denim. Giving him no time to think, Harry’s mouth finds his, dominating the kiss, tracing his bottom lip before teasing their tongues as Louis responds, hands fisting in his waves as his hips work against the Alphas cock, the friction electrifying in his tummy. “Haz, please, please, please, more.”

Growling, the Alpha pins his hips to the mattress, then reaches around to unwrap his legs and turn him on the mattress, so Louis is on his knees, bent so his bum is bare again, even as his face is pressed to his folded arms. And Harry’s sitting up on his knees behind him, so, so close, fingers tracing the curve of his lace, tugging the garment down only a bit, “You’ve got such a lovely arse, kitten. All pink and heated and full.”

At the compliment, Louis fidgets, wanting to press his hips to the mattress in search of the missing friction, but then the Alpha pulls the lace down, bunching it just where the rounds of his bum meets his thighs and Louis tenses, puzzled, “What–?”

“Quiet, love,” the Alpha commands, and the Omega can’t manage to consider challenging him as careful digits trace the heated flesh of his right cheek. “Mine.”

Moaning, Louis’s back bows, bum on display as his teeth sink into his wrist in order to keep quiet as his Alpha ordered. “Christ. ‘M goin’ to make it hurt less, yeah? Kiss you a bit. Here,” the Alpha’s voice is thousands of octaves lower as Louis struggles to breathe. When the Alpha’s touch leaves, there’s a little _pop_ before Harry’s hands arrive at his heated flesh again. Cool, soothing liquid accompanies the soft grip, and Louis sighs, lashes fluttering at the relief Harry’s hands bring, kneading his sore flesh.

Compliant, the Omega unwinds, shoulders relaxed as he smiles into the bedspread, becoming accustomed to the sweet feel as his skin gradually cools. Except Harry’s mouth replaces his hands (which move to grip Louis’s hips) as his lips plant sweet, soft kisses over his bum. Eye’s rounding, Louis feels the white-hot sensation everywhere, anticipation piercing his previous calm–he doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but his insides are _on fire,_ melting in the most exquisite ways.

“H-H-Haz?” he stumbles over the word, the ache in his panties intensifying, _begging for friction._

“Yes, kitten?” Somehow his voice sounds different, dark and uneven and throaty. And Louis thinks he _knows_ what his body _wants,_ because Alpha’s know how to take care of Omega’s. Even though Louis isn’t sure, Harry certainly must be.

“W-What a-a-are,” his voice breaks and he moans loudly as the Alpha’s fingers grip either of his cheeks, spreading them, breathing hotly on his most secret area. _Oh God._

“What am I doing?” the Alpha whispers, nosing at his skin now, groaning before pressing more kisses, further from _that place._

“Yes,” Louis whimpers, voice high and breathy. Fiery within, the boy is loose and tense all the same, focused on every brush of Harry’s mouth, every drag against the round globes of his bum, fingers so tight on his flesh, expecting his reaction.

“Feelin’ better?”

“No,” the boy pants against the sheet, reaching behind him in search of Harry’s waves, not understanding what he’s getting at, but needing to _show_ him where his mouth needs to be. “No, Haz, it _hurts._ I need…I need you. Please.”

And the Alpha’s answering groan is almost…pained, even though it’s Louis who wants to cry when his mouth leaves his bum, “Fuck. _Fuck, Louis,_ don’t beg me. I want to. I want to, you know I do.”

No, the boy thinks desperately, no, I don’t know because I don’t even understand what _I want_ right now. Just your mouth. On my bum, mouthing at–“Ah,” the boy moans into the sheets, not caring to understand anything other than the fact that the ache in his belly _hurts hurts hurts_ so bad, and he _needs it._ “Please.”

Before the Omega realises what’s happened, he’s on his back again, pinned beneath the Alpha’s solid weight. Reaching up, Louis kisses the Alpha, shivering in response to his primal growl as Harry’s leg spreads his apart so he’s cradled by Louis’s body, between his legs. Frantically, the Omega’s fingers fumble with Harry’s shirt, needing skin-to-skin contact, mumbling against his mouth, “Off. Off.”

In seconds the Alpha has tugged Louis’s shirt up and over his head, tearing his own shirt away in the same movement. Then he’s being kissed again, tongues brushing, Louis’s soft, pleading strokes, Harry’s demanding, _devouring_ thrusts. One hand trails from Louis’s thigh, squeezing his hip, along the soft of his belly to right nipple, tugging the puckered bud enticingly between deft fingers. At the sensation, Louis mewls, tilting his pelvis involuntarily against Harry, receiving delicious friction against the seam of the Alpha’s fly, where his cock is bulging. The sensation, white and _ablaze_ , causes his eyes to roll a bit as Harry takes his mouth, forceful and possessive and everything his Omega craves.

Without warning, Harry stops, distancing them some inches to gaze intensely down at him. And as he stares, his hips flex so his erection, massive and outlined and burning against the fabric separating flush contact pushes against Louis’s achy arousal. Yes, Louis thinks, mewling when Harry does this again, but pushing back, relishing in the Alpha’s answering growl before their mouths are flush against each other’s again.

In flames, Louis feels the leisure, delicious torment–stroking him _everywhere._ Around them, Harry’s scent intoxicates his senses, overwhelmingly _Alpha_ as Louis mewls, bucking his hips frantically, chasing the flames.

Groaning, the Alpha buries his face in Louis’s neck, kissing and sucking and biting at his skin, keeping up the pace until his nose trails up to the boy’s cheek, and then he’s kissing him again, canines locked on Louis’s bottom lip, sucking his flesh as those hands travel. And his hands touch touch touch his body though Louis’s hands remain on Harry’s shoulders and his back, caught in the flex and ripple of his subtle muscles, and his skin is damp with sweat and–

With one rough surge, Louis’s rucked up the mattress, and his fingernails run harsh across Harry’s shoulders, moaning brokenly as Harry grunts, kissing him proper now. _So hot so hot so hot…_

“Harry,” Louis gasps, trapped underneath the Alpha, whose weight, feel, _skin,_ ripples flames through him. Jerking backwards, the Alpha lets him meet the mattress again, clutching his thighs to keep him in place, grinding against him roughly as Louis tips his head back into the sheets, whimpering around the noise of the furniture slamming into the wall with every surge, “ _Yesyesyes.”_

“Open your eyes,” the Alpha growls, and instantly Louis’s eyes are open again, and he doesn’t know how he must look to Harry, but hopes _sexy_ as Harry growls again, grip at his thighs bruising as his pace quickens, forceful and determined against Louis’s achy, straining flesh, the fabric’s pull sharp and sweet and–“Show me.”

Powerless to the command, Louis gasps, flooded, nerves scrubbed raw as the most intense orgasm, _earth-shattering,_ crashes over him. Dimly, the Omega can hear himself–he’s so _loud,_ the scream coming from somewhere in his lungs as his body shakes with ecstasy that consumes his every breath, his very being.

What feels like forever passes until Louis is aware that Harry’s raining sweet, soft kisses over his face–eyes, nose, mouth, where he breathes, “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, Lou. So pretty. And perfect. Mine.”

Warm, sleepy, sated, the Omega sighs, still shivering from the aftereffects though he thinks his blood’s turned to warm honey or something. And his eyes are closed, breathing slowed with impending sleep…except the Alpha starts quietly, “Need to clean you, Lou. Would you like me to do it?”

Though he’s so close to oblivious, Louis is ever self-conscious, and there is absolutely no way Harry is going to clean him…down there. Instead, he pouts and whines softly; forcing his body to respond and sit up though he sways even so, one hand flattening on the mattress to support his weight. “Look ‘way,” he mumbles sleepily, hands already toying with the panties, disgusted with the tackiness and the come, wanting to get out of the soiled material.

Sighing in what sounds like irritation, the Alpha mutters, “I want to see.”

“Creep,” Louis sighs, smiling shyly before reaching forward, flattening his palm on the Alpha’s chest, feeling his heartbeat against his fingers, wondering what that means. “Please, baby, don’t watch me. I…I’ve been exposed enough tonight.”

There’s one, conceding groan before Harry rises from the bed. Slightly anxious Harry’s going to leave, Louis’s arms go around his belly protectively. “I…I’m sorry, Alpha.”

“No,” the Alpha murmurs, quiet and grim, “Don’t fuckin’ apologise. And don’t feel bad either. It’s your body, little one. I won’t do _anything_ you’re uncomfortable with. You don’t want me to look? Then I won’t. It’s whatever _you’re_ comfortable with, Lou. That’s all that matters when we’re sexual. Understood?”

More heat tinges his cheeks as Louis nods, extending a shaky hand for Harry to place a damp cloth and a fresh pair of pants in. “Alright, fuck, ‘m turning. Leave the stockings, yeah?”

♥

                Inhaling sharply through clenched teeth, the Alpha forces his legs to pivot through sheer will as his shaking hands shove through his dampened curls roughly–his skin is sheen with sweat from the exertion it’s taking to force his Alpha into submission, and he’s _burning,_ his veins are burning so many degrees too high because _fuck he’s on fire._ Worse than any rut he’s experienced before, the sexual hunger blazes, his entire body is rigid, muscles tense, cock so hard it’s painful, senses centered on the boy behind him. _Fuck,_ Louis is feet away; _naked–_ out of sight out of mind is such a fuckin’ joke. One that’s really not funny.

At the reminder, he thinks his body sways, hands curling into tight fists, suddenly trained on the sounds of Louis’s shuffles on the mattress, in the sheets. _Sun-kissed, pale-pink stockings, creamy thighs, stained arse, fucked out…_

“Finished,” the boy says in that soft, gentle, faraway voice that seems to link directly to his cock which jerks in his trousers. When he turns again, his sharpened gaze locks on the boy instantly, the most beautiful creature in the world kneeling before him on the mattress, fringe matted with sweat, sharp cheeks flushed, mouth swollen, throat marked in reds and pinks, shoulders frail…Shutting his eyes against the image, though it’s branded into his thoughts, the Alpha imagines that he’s going to spread his arse again, and won’t simply be looking at the tight, pink hole, that he’s going to eat him out until he’s begging for it, then finger him open, get his cock inside him, and knot him, knot him like he’s never knotted any Omega before, fill with his delicate body with babies, so many pups. Breed him. Breed him.

_Fuck._

Sensation runs through him as his Alpha claws at his chest, demanding, craving. And he’s no longer breathing, thinking that scent, thick and rich with pheromones, will screw with his mind enough that he’ll act out on these fantasies…

Christ, he’d been a fuckin’ idiot to think he could handle this without fucking this boy into oblivion.

As the Alpha thinks this, Louis shifts, scooting forward on the mattress, flattening his small, soft hands on Harry’s chest. In response to the touch, the Alpha inhales sharply– _mistake_ as the pheromones suffocate his senses, _fuck he’s getting wet for me._ Realising this, his cock throbs against his trousers, reminding him of what his job is as Alpha, to please him, to give him his knot.

Grounding his teeth, the Alpha makes the second mistake– _looking at him._ And he can’t fucking stop now, gazing at him from where he’s on his knees, chewing on his plush bottom lip. So fuckin’ sexy. Not fuckin’ helping the situation in his trousers.

And like he knows what this is doing to him, Louis runs trembling fingers across his piercings, down the jumping muscles of his stomach, to the waistband of his trousers. Driving him, the boy leans forward, mouth soft, directly above the belt buckle of his trousers. And his eyes fuckin’ roll, because he can’t handle this, the pleasure is indescribable, too much for one simple touch. “Can I touch?” the boy whispers in that fuckin’ _voice,_ so meek and Omega.

 _No. No I might fuck you into the mattress if you touch me anymore. I might force it. I might lose myself._ “You’re already touchin’,” his voice is rough, gravelly, like he hasn’t had a drink in _ages_ (and he _hasn’t,_ not the drink he’s thinkin’ of, the drink between Louis’s sweet, full cheeks). As the Omega’s thick lashes flutter, casting those beautiful shadows on his cheekbones, the Alpha wonders what he’d look like when he’s being properly _fucked,_ when his little hole is stretched and wet around–. Without permission, one small hand lowers over the bulging of his cock, trapped in his bloody trousers, breathing, “Here.”

The light, light contact isn’t nearly enough, but it’s fuckin’ driving him _insane._ “I didn’t,” he growls, irritated that Louis’s teasing him this way, as he grabs his jaw, exposing his face, eyes trained on his tempting mouth, “give you permission to touch. You don’t touch without, understood?”

“Can…” Louis breathes, small tongue flitting over of his swollen bottom lip, “Can I touch, Alpha?”

“Where?” Cool. Composed. As he _should fucking be…_ despite how _wild_ he’s actually feeling.

In response to the question, the boy’s face flushes delicious rose. “You know where…”

“I want to hear you say it.” _I want to hear you tell me you want it._

 _“_ D-D-Down there,” his virginal Omega whispers, those ocean-like eyes peering through those lashes.

“My cock?” _really wants to be fuckin’ touched…_

And it seems the boy wants to touch as much as this little, porn-star noise escapes his mouth before he nods willingly. Always so eager–his cock throbs again.

“Wanna get me off?” his voice impossibly becomes octaves lower as this thumb strokes Louis’s moist mouth–reminding him of the Omega’s taste, strawberries and chocolate from earlier. Delicious. _Mine._

A much more enthusiastic nod follows.

With a throaty chuckle, Harry murmurs arrogantly, “You don’t tire easily. Always want more. Would you give it to any Alpha, Lou?” _The thought makes me fuckin’ mental. Makes me want to tear every unmated Alphas throat out. Makes me want to fuck you so much harder, to mark you because I’m such a little bitch when it comes to you. Always need to make sure you’re mine…because the thought of there being an otherwise fuckin’ terrifies me._

Louis shakes his head frantically, whining quietly, “No. Only you. Only want you, Alpha.” And those words do nothing to assure him, nothing will until Harry’s bonding mark is on display, until he knows there’s no getting away from LouisandHarry. But for now…

“Good boy,” Harry praises, releasing his face to continue, “Go ahead then.”

Doe-eyed, the Omega lifts his trembling fingers, tracing his waistband again, seemingly lost as Harry struggles not to groan, to place his hand where it needs to be on his cock. But hell does the anticipation burn in his abdomen, ache in his cock. “Unbutton them,” the Alpha urges between clenched teeth. Fumbling, the Omega struggles against his belt, but manages after an excruciating minute or so, then easily undoes the button, slowly lowering the zipper, then waiting on further instruction. _So good…_ So achingly Omega, reacting to his Alpha on the same levels…Christ, he could do it now, he really fuckin’ could…And he’s so focused on how his knot swells at the base of his cock, realising that he might fuckin’ do it, might knot him tonight, that he simply gazes as Louis flounders.

Growing frustrated, the boy sighs, lowering his face, “Do…Do you not want me to do this?” _No. Yes. No…no I want to do you._

“That’s not it,” Harry mutters, then grips his upper arms, tugging him to an abrupt stance on the mattress. When the Omega wobbles, the Alpha catches him quick, shuddering at the soft, warm feel of him, the _proximity_ of his sweet body. And seeming to sense his desperation, the boy kisses him, mouth so soft, so sweet, _begging him._ “That’s not it…” he speaks against his mouth, unable to separate them again, “’S just…I’m screwed up right now. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do when I have someone so innocent…I’ve never been with someone innocent as you, Louis. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I want to pleasure you. All I want is to make sure you have…acceptable first experiences….Christ, I want to _fuck you already._ I want to fuck you more than I’ve wanted to have anyone in my life…Let me fuck you? I’ll be gentle, and sweet with your body…I’ll make it so good, baby.” _Christ, what the fuck is coming out of his mouth?_

Louis whines, hands twining in his hair, tugging, driving him to the brinks of his capacity. “Then do it. Please, make love to me.” _Like he really knows what he’s askin’ for._

Cock throbbing, the Alpha’s eyes roll, and his shoulders tense, growls ripping through his throat. “I want to…Fuckin’ hurts how much I want to…But I can’t. Christ, Lou, ‘m going to break down if I don’t get my cock inside you soon.”

“’S okay,” Louis breathes, running his hands through the hairs at the nape his neck. “It doesn’t have to be now. Teach me some more…Then, make love to me. Soon...”

Harry shudders, squeezing his eyes shut, repeating raggedly, “Soon? Soon.”

“Mhm,” the boy whispers, tugging at his hair, “Please, let me give you this now though. I don’t want this to be one sided…Show me how to please you.”

Giving up the resistance, because _fuck it, he needs this,_ the Alpha’s hands reach between them, and he all but shoves his trousers down, not giving a fuck that they’re tight around his thighs still as his cock stands straight to attention, proud as hell.

Sliding back down to his knees, Louis’s mouth parts, releasing shallow breathes, before, “H-H-How do you like to be touched?”

A smirk tilts one side of his mouth, “If it’s you, any way.” _Not a lie._

Pulling his bottom lip between the points of his canines, Louis seems to consider this, then decides, “No…Show me.” Crazed for the touch, Harry takes ahold of his dainty hand, and carries it to his cock, pleased by how easily Louis follows his movements. At the contact, the Alpha’s breathing roughens, but he holds it together to circle their hands around. And _fuck,_ Louis’s soft, soft hand can’t circle how his does, but it hardly matters because the roughness of his hands won’t ever measure to the innocent soft of the Omegas. A rasp escapes his throat as it takes all the trained self-discipline he’s attained to allow the boy to feel at his own, agonizing pace.

Pleasure match strokes through his veins, more pleasure than one innocent, _dry_ touch should allow, but _fuck_ Louis’s almost observing his cock with his hands, using them in the most teasing ways, brushing, _marveling._ “It’s huge,” the words are soft, innocent breaths as Louis’s cheeks heat again, deliciously pink. Somehow the boy manages to make him laugh, short, pained laughter, “You say the nicest things, kitten.”

“Now what?” Louis whispers, and his cock throbs in their grip, and Harry tilts his head back, running their hands backwards to the base, thicker with his knot, then to the blunt-head, _hissing_ at the raw sensation. Nothing’s felt like this, especially not an inexperienced, fumbling hand job. “Just…” he takes his hand, emphasizing Louis’s grip, squeezing, “Like that.”

So untried, the boy follows this, tightening his grip (not nearly tight enough) and carrying it over the length of his cock experimentally. When he groans Louis stops instantly, looking horrified, “Is this…Is this okay?”

“Yeah… _fuck,”_ if he wasn’t so damned hard it’d be funny, the entire situation he’d never thought to have to work through, but _fuck it’s worth it._ Seeming to find some spark, Louis licks his lips (his cock jerks in the boy’s grip, like it’s going to be against those sweet lips) and stacks his palms, taking his cock in both, like he _knows_ what that does, like he guesses that his knots going to swell past the point of one. Christ, his palms are soft, moving against his cock, warm, sparking the wildfire in his veins.

“Yeah, so good, baby,” he breathes, reaching forward to stroke his bottom lip, willing him to show those eyes. Shoring up some courage, the boy squeezes, and Harry’s cock pulses in his hold as he groans low in his throat, muttering through uneven breaths, “Keep it slow. Hold me out. Make me work for it, Lou. The longer you burn me, the better the end will be.”

Beautifully obedient, the Omega halts his strokes, opting to flex his fingers instead, slowly squeezing up the length, then down, so fuckin’ _good._ Without permission his hips shift forward, so Louis’s grip tightens reflexively. Another groan as his neck and shoulders tense, “Haz,” Louis breathes, the purrs, finding an agonizingly slow pace with those hands, working him until the heats coiled low in his groan, and his cocks pulsing hot, balls heavy and tight below, the tell-tale pleasure sweeping through his cock in rushes of blood and fire.

And then the little tease stops altogether, slowing, _building up the pressure._ A sheen sweat gleams over his body, his stomach, his arms, _everywhere_ as his breathing comes fast and rough. Whenever the boy stops, a demanding growl comes from somewhere in his chest, but the sound can’t be heard around the buzzing current overcoming the room.

And his heart pounds in his ears, almost as loud as–Growling again, his hips jerk forward as the Omega whines, working him almost desperately, “I like this. You feel good…”

A drawn out laugh comes finds him before Harry murmurs roughly, “Yeah? So do you.”

Pouting, the boy thumbs at the slit of his cock, where the beads of precome have formed, sticky, _warning,_ as those fingers dampen. Electricity hums in his veins as the pace slows again, the drags along his cock smoother, _wet and warm and fuck,_ he’s going to come at this rate. Throwing his head back, Harry brings his hands to his hair, yanking, tensing, _fighting_ and–Without warning, the boy’s hands tighten around the base of his cock, and soft, velvet brushes the head of his cock, and his tongue licks at the slit wetly as the boy moans.

At the sensation, his hips lurch but the hands around his cock continue to work, and _fuck_ his cock jerks in his fixed grip as Louis kitten-licks at the blunt head again and again and again. _Fuck,_ white-hot, undiluted pleasure washes through him, and his cock throbs, balls tight below, knot reaching its capacity and–

In record time, as to keep the boy from choking on his cock, (because if it continued, that’s where it’d go–he’s never been gentle when his cock’s in someone’s mouth and even though everything’s different with Louis…he doesn’t trust his body. Doesn’t want to disrespect his unsuspecting Omega that way) the Alpha grips Louis’s shoulders and shoves the boy away with perhaps a bit too much force. Growling, his eyes land on where he’s scrambling on the mattress, wide-eyed, panting, so fuckin’ pretty…Getting a fist around his cock again, the Alpha squeezes, strokes rough and fast as he stares, inhaling the thick pheromones, remembering the sensation of his sweet mouth against–he’s coming, vision stark white as his cock pulses in his fist, come streaking up his stomach and his chest and in his hand.

Forcing his limbs to give, Harry lowers onto the mattress, tense, rigid in his orgasm, involuntarily squeezing at the base, tightening around his knot, _more ecstasy,_ “Christ,” he groans, stroking through it until his body gives.

As the Alpha struggles to catch his breath, his eyes open, blinking hazily to watching the boy crawl cautiously to his side, hands tangled at his belly, fringe veiling his tempest eyes. Minutes draw by in silence before the Alpha lets out a heavy exhale, relaxing slowly before growling roughly, “You’re so fuckin’…” seemingly prepared for something else, the boy shrinks, looking impossibly tinier, “Sexy,” Harry finishes, voice gentle now.

Very confused, the boy raises his face, opening that mouth to ask when Harry continues fondly, “I think you like to test my patience and control.”

Taking his bottom lip between his canines, Louis shakes his head, then breathes, “I wanted you to…to…do that. And I didn’t t-think you’d let me have it my way…so I…” Even though his mouth was flush against Harry’s cock seconds ago, Louis still retains his virginal nature. And _fuck_ that’s so sexy for some reason.

“Took matters into your own hands?” he asks, smirking lazily.

Louis mumbles bashfully, “Matters were _already_ in my hands. Put ‘em to my mouth.”

Barking out husky laughter, Harry breathes, “Now matters are all over _me._ ”

Mouth parting, the boy carries one shaky hand forward, surprising him by gliding his fingers over the come on Harry’s stomach. Smiling shyly, the boy licks the digits, very experimental, then blinking in rapid succession, “Hmm. ‘S weird,” he breathes, licking his lips.

“Want to try more?” he asks huskily as his cock takes interest– _fuckin’ always hard for this boy,_ he thinks in frustration.

Achingly fervent, Louis nods, waiting. Sighing, the Alpha stands, drunkenly swaying before using his clean hand to drag his trousers back over his thighs and cock, leaving them undone, and returning to the bed in seconds.

And he uses the hand, sticky and wet with his come, to probe at Louis’s bottom lip, spreading his come over his lips, then, once the boy parts his mouth, lashes fluttering shut, curling two digits in his tempting mouth. Closing over them, Louis’s mouth is warm, wet, sucking them clean, and humming softly, running his tongue along the pads of Harry’s fingers–so fuckin’ _hot,_ the Alpha thinks, watching him intensely, as his little pulls continue, then Harry curls his fingers, and Louis seems to understand, opening his mouth again.

“Good boy,” he praises roughly, using the sheet to rid the come on his stomach, and then reaching forward to stroke his soft, moist mouth.

“Taste’s…good?” the boy whispers unsurely, then he giggles, “I just ate your babies.”

 _Babies._ At the word, the current thrills, buzz crawling along his skin, sending wild animalistic instinct through him as Harry bites back his answering growl. Lying on his back, Harry grasps his hips, so he’s straddling his stomach, arched so their faces are close. “You’re so immature, baby,” he whispers, clutching his thigh in one hand, hand at his hip tugging him lower, so his arse nestles Harry’s cock. _Fuck yes._ Louis mewls, hot breaths on Harry’s mouth. “I forget you’re only sixteen–well seventeen today.”

“Am I your baby now?” Louis breathes, squirming, unknowingly tempting him. “’Cause I ate some of your babies?”

Groaning low in his throat, the Alpha manages, flexing his hips into his sexy arse, “’S not exactly the conversation I want to have right now.”

Louis pouts, lowering his face to press small, kitten-kisses to his throat, “Why,” more gentle kisses, “not? ‘S funny.”

Unable to control his fucking mouth, Harry answers unevenly, “It’s not…cause I want my babies inside you.”

Not seeming to understand, the boy lifts his face, frowning, “They sorta already _are…_ ”

But the Alpha doesn’t care to listen, cutting him short to turn them in seconds, Louis beneath him, where he _needs_ to be. Braced above him, the Alpha retreats, planting short, adoring kisses over his collar, down his chest, flicking the tight little buds of his nipples with his tongue secondly, (pleased by how his back bows beautifully, nails biting into his arms where the boy clutches) to his soft belly, “Here. Want them in _here._ Love your tummy. I want my babies inside you…here.”

And he nuzzles his belly as Louis mumbles breathily, “Oh…” then, sexy little tease he is, “Wanna gimme your pups, Alpha?”

Growling, his fingers tug the pants down some, revealing sharp hipbones, nipping there, sucking harshly at his skin. “Yeah,” he murmurs gutturally, sitting up as Louis wiggles his hips, tipping his head back into the pillows, beautifully turned on. Lookin’ so wanton–pretty cock hard in his pants, outlined, _perfect._ Lifting one leg, the Alpha runs his hands down the soft stocking over his thigh, “Want them, kitten?”

But he won’t take them there tonight, knows his cock is already diamond hard, ready to make it happen as he lessens his touch. As if sensing this, the Omega rolls onto his belly, whimpering into the pillow and wiggling his arse in offering.

 _Christ._ A low growl comes from deep in his chest as he braces over the boy, hovering and chuckling in his ear, “Oh, love.” When the boy lifts his face, the Alpha kisses him, rough and filthy, sucking his tongue, stroking his mouth, “You’re so pretty, tempting me like this. You know how much I want to give them to you. Just not tonight.” _Wishful thinking from the both of us._

Louis whines the beautiful sound, hips twitching, seeking friction from the mattress as he provokes him like any Omega would, trying to get their way, though Harry finds resisting Louis Tomlinson is nearly impossible, all else be damned, “Liar. You just don’t wanna give me your babies.”

“Fuck, no,” he growls, bringing his arm underneath Louis’s body, around his soft belly, hiking him up from the mattress, so he’s bent beautifully again, arse softly rocking against his throbbing cock. “I want you to have ‘em, Lou. All of them.”

It’s like the boy _knows_ how this riles his Alpha up, _knows_ how much Harry wants to knot him so full, spilling his babies into his sweet body. The thought heightens the pleasure, _red_ with animalistic want. Against him, the Omega wriggles his hips, but Harry can’t handle that, can’t handle the fact that there’s only two thin layers separating his cock from Louis’s tight little hole. Sprawling out again, Harry stays tensed against the mattress, staring up at the ceiling, trying to contain the cravings…

Needy, Louis scrambles forward, straddling his thighs, a soft warm weight on his body, and his flighty hands are going for his bulging cock, but _fuck no…not yet._ Before contact is made, Harry grasps his wrist, speaking slowly, “I want to see your eyes.”

Without hesitation, the boy raises those gorgeous, sparkling pools. “Yes, Alpha,” he breathes submissively, so much so that Harry releases his wrists again. And it takes some fumbling, Louis rising on his knees to lower his trousers again, then it’s like _lightening electrocuting his veins_ as those soft hands grasp the thick of his cock. Jerking, the Alpha groans, listening to Louis’s short gasp as the boy feels, unable to circle his fingers, but constricting obscenely even so.

“When you make love to me,” Louis starts breathlessly, tracing the blunt head of his cock with trembling fingers that Harry feels _everywhere,_ “this will be inside me?” _Still so damned innocent…asking these questions._

“ _Christ,_ ” the Alpha snarls, hips hiking at the thought, “Yeah. Yes, inside you…So fuckin’ deep. You’ll take it all.”

Louis squeezes again, which _fuck, yeah,_ he’s learning so well. “Knotting me?” he’s curious, ironically innocent as his hand drags down the length of his cock, then up, but fucking _loosely._

“Knockin’ you up. Getting you so full of my pups. My baby full of my baby babies,” he laughs ridiculously, but the sound ceases when Louis hold _tightens,_ quickening the strokes.

“Bonding me,” Louis mewls, flushed beautifully, losing his captivating rhythm. “I want your bonding bite, please, Alpha.”

The growls are raw, forced by how turned on he is as his hips lurch into the boy’s grip. “Lou, stop sayin’ shit like that. We are going to be up all night at this rate.”

“Who…” the boy pants, rhythm returning ( _fuck yeah)_ as his fringe sticks to his face, “Who needs sleep anyway?”

“You,” Harry snarls, and without permission, twists the boy around onto his back, pinned beneath his weight, his cock tight to the soft of his belly. Beneath him, the boy is warm and soft and takes his breath away. The contact, the proximity is _euphoric_ settling over his skin, throbbing at his cock.

“Haz,” Louis whines, wriggling underneath him, “You weigh a ton.”

Easing onto his forearms, Harry noses at his jaw, breathing seriously, “I like feeling you beneath me…You belong under me. You belong underneath me, taking my cock.”

Mewling, the boy’s fingers stroke at his jaw so their mouths are flush against each others, “I like being beneath you…You feel…nice.” _Nice enough to let me fuck you?_

Growling low in his throat, the Alpha’s canines sink into his plush flesh, tugging and licking until the Omega is panting loudly, hands twisted in his overgrown waves, anchoring them together. “Haz,” his voice is the sexiest moan Harry’s ever had the pleasure of hearing. Expressing this, the Alpha runs his hands down the Omega’s spread thighs, kneeling between his legs. And that scent drafts like a wrecking ball crashing into his lungs, intoxicating his mind, causing his knot to threaten to pop without _any pressure._

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” Harry groans, inhaling deeply again as his hand hikes the boy’s leg, nosing at the inside of his thigh, inhaling as his eyes roll. Of course he knows this scent, the sweetness, so _sweet,_ but this is _Louis’s_ scent now, sweet and fresh, rainy. Nothing like anything else. “You’re wet…”

Tensing, the boy’s confusion filters between them as he squirms, seeming to realise this as well as Harry’s mouth sucks a bruising mark over the stocking at the inside of his thigh. “Just turned seventeen,” though he’s teasing, or _attempting to,_ his voice is still so fuckin’ lined with that Alpha tone. “And thinks he can take it.” _Fuck, he’ll have to…_

With a little noise, the boy slumps, curling his stocking-clad foot around Harry’s shoulder, “I…I can take it,” he decides seconds later, wriggling his hips and arse suggestively. “You’re practically drooling for it.”

Laughing gruffly, the Alpha nips at his thigh, then licks the smooth skin just above the lace trim wetly, “Slobbering mutt I am.”

“Ew!” Louis shrieks, voice spectacularly high, “You’re disgusting.”

“You make me disgusting.” _Fuck I want to eat you out so bad…wanna taste your slick..._

“Awe,” the boy coos, gasping when Harry inhales again, groaning, clutching both his thighs tight, mouthing at his skin, marking him. “You’re… _Oh…please…I…._ ” he breaks off, panting, then seems to find himself when Harry lifts his mouth to question, “You’re s-s-so…cute, puppy.”

“Puppy?” Harry asks, trailing his nose down his thigh, “Puppy and kitten now?”

Louis giggles breathlessly, and shakes his head against the pillow, “Yes, I think that’s–,” In one fluid movement, Harry stands (yanking up his trousers and doing the button) and the boy looks _heartbroken_ but Harry doesn’t pause, dragging his sexy body down the mattress and lifting him up and over his shoulder, the weight almost feather light. “Hey!” Louis whines, trying to kick his legs around Harry’s arms, “Let me go! Let me go!”

“Oh, no,” Harry murmurs, playfully bearing his palm over his arse, “Kitten, Puppy wants to play.”

“Help, help!” Louis shrieks, and Harry knows the little tease is aware that absolutely nobody is going to hear–they’re secluded at the farthest end of the manor (and it’s noisy as fuck out there, the guests managing quite well without the “main attractions”). “’M blind! A helpless, impaired boy! You’re takin’ advantage!” But he’s giggling cutely (Harry reckons he realises those age restrictions mean _shit_ when it’s a year and some months difference).

“You are a kitten,” he says, grinning wickedly, “And I am a very devout kitten lover. Love me some pussy.”

“Oh…my…God!” Louis gasps, sounding so disturbed as Harry takes them into the connecting bath, starting the standing shower. “Ew! I hate that vulgar word! Eck! You’re so dirty! Dirty, filthy puppy! Need to soap that filthy mouth!”

“You going to do it for me, kitten?” he asks, looking in the mirror at them, bed-ridden and fuckin’ _perfect_ together.

“Don’t _ever_ call me that again! All I am going to think is…that…word,” Louis makes a disgusted face, squirming over his shoulder.

“Actually, I agree. How about,” he asks quietly, “I start calling you putty-tat from now on instead?”

“You know what?” Louis asks pertly, “I am done with you. Absolutely over. ‘M breakin’ it off again.”

At the words, the Alpha goes rigid, panic spearing ice through his heated veins. Shutting his eyes, Harry fights the emotions, _disgusted_ with how pathetic he is, _terrified because–no. Not tonight. Not fuckin’ tonight,_ he snarls inwardly, opening his eyes again, realising how _ruined_ he looks, a _mess_ of sweat dampened waves, iris’ thin rings around black, wild and crazed, canines elongated.

Swallowing, Harry growls, attempting to seem as composed as he _wishes he were,_ “Oh, you’re goin’ to get it for that, little one.”

And then he carries them directly into the spacious shower, turning so the cold water, on max, jets arctic spurts directly on the boy’s arse. Louis squeals as the water soaks through their clothes, and they’re drenched, Harry grinning as Louis giggles and tries to escape. “No!” he giggles, droplets of crystals forming on his thick lashes, “No, stop!”

“Apologise.” _Just…take it back. Before I go insane._

“No!” the boy laughs breathlessly, still trying to slip free. “I will not!”

“God,” he murmurs, more amused than irritated, “You’re annoying.”

At this, Louis stills, and Harry thinks; _great, now I’ve hurt his feelings._

“Louis Tomlinson,” he says quietly, “You’re not allowed to be hurt that I called you annoying. Because you know I was joking.”

“Were you?” the boy asks, voice small.

“Were you?” Harry mirrors, emotion crawling up his throat. “Joking about leaving me? Making me leave? Or is that still on your mind?”

Louis snivels as the Alpha sets him on his feet gentle, water raining between them. Unable to help it, Harry presses him against the wall, his cheek to the tile as Harry’s hands settle on his hips.

“Yes,” the boy breathes, so sincere that it’s nearly impossible to second guess, “Of course I was joking…And no. No it’s not on my mind. I couldn’t…I couldn’t do that again. I love you. I love you too much. ‘M so sorry, Haz…So sorry that I’m so selfish…”

The words are razor blades of pleasure against his skin– _fuck,_ his cock, having lost interest, is hard again in seconds, bulging, straining against his trousers. Shuddering, the Alpha urges his face to turn, and then kisses him frantically, taking his mouth and pleading with his tongue, silently voicing his panic…his terror at the thought of Louis leaving him, or having to leave Louis. “Don’t leave me again…Louis, don’t make me leave…You…” he whispers against his sweet, giving mouth. _You’re my everything…I can’t live without…_

“I know,” the boy whimpers, bracing his forearms on the wall. “I love you. Probably too much…” _Am I supposed to believe that?_

Growling viciously, the Alpha demands, pleased with the boy stretching on his tip toes so his arse is pressed against Harry’s bulging cock, the pressure shattering his resistance, “Tell me again.”

“I love you.” Grounding his hips against Louis’s arse, Harry groans, hand flattening on the wall beside Louis’s arms as his head falls forward against the boy’s shoulder, “Yeah? Yeah, you love me?”

“I love you,” Louis mewls, absorbing the surge of Harry’s cock against his arse, “So much, Alpha.”

“Get’s me so fucking,” he breathes roughly against his throat, marking his skin, sucking and taking, canines scraping desperately as his hips continue, and the blazing current thrills, “ _hard._ Hearing that…Gonna make me come like some fifteen year old in five minutes.”

Moaning that porn-star sound, tilting his head in welcoming, the boy urges him, “I love you.”

Almost panting, Harry growls, canines dragging down to his bonding spot, “Fuck.” And his voice is desperately deep and hoarse, hips gyrating unconsciously, “How much? How much do you love me?”

“More than anything. Love you more than anything, Harry,” Louis moans breathlessly, meeting his thrusts, breathing shakily against the tile. “Love all of you. Everything about you.”

“I think you just love this,” Harry manages between gritted teeth, surging his hips again, “That’s it, isn’t it? You love my cock. Crave it.”

Louis whines, “No.” But his voice is weak, and when Harry opens his eyes (which he hadn’t realised were shut) the water is drenching him as he arches his throat, fringe soaked in his beautiful eyes. “I love _you._ Love who you are. Who you _are_ is who I love.”

And his cock _pounds_ , growing impossibly, pulsing hotly, the white-hot pleasure rushing through him with every droplet of water as Harry growls, “I’m going to come.” And his teeth, canines especially, close over Louis’s bonding spot, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough that it _feels_ like it will as his hips shove and thrust against his perky arse and Louis melts, shivering, burning as hot as Harry _feels inside_ against him. “Do you want to come, baby?”

“ _Yes,”_ the Omega mewls frantically as Harry’s hand snakes around his belly, brushing his pretty cock, straining against the clinging material of his pants. _“Oh, God, Alpha. Please…_ ”

Lost to the animal, his arm snakes around his soft belly, curling at his waist, “Too bad,” he drawls against his throat, licking the wet, red skin, “Too bad because I’m going to come. And you’re not. This is what you get for _scaring the hell out of me._ ”

But it’s like the boy doesn’t hear him, whimpering and trembling, no words.

“Another punishment,” he continues silkily, forcing his hips to cease their movements against Louis’s arse. “You’re so eager to please…I reckon it doesn’t bother you even now.”

Without permission, surprising him, the boy turns so his back’s to the wall, and Harry’s towering over him, their scents thick between them as Louis whispers, “Only for you…I only want to please you.”

Inhaling unsteadily, the Alpha takes three steps away, ordering, “Knees. Get on your knees.”

Without missing one beat, anticipation burning in bright flames high on his cheeks, Louis drops to his knees, legs tucked underneath him. “You’re not touching,” Harry says quietly. “Understood?”

Upset, an adorable frown graces his swollen mouth, which parts to protest though Harry disregards it, murmuring, “I don’t trust you anymore. Not in this state. I don’t trust you like this to not try to pull something like putting your mouth on my cock again. I will fuck your face. And it won’t be pleasant on your first try. So don’t you dare try it. That isn’t happening tonight.”

Pouting, the boy nods once as Harry reaches beyond him to fiddle with the tap until the waters flow ceases. And his hands fumble with his trousers until they’re undone, and his cock is free, hand fisting the length, the thick, slackly. “Fuck,” Harry groans, gazing at him, drenched, trails of droplets sliding down his smooth skin, flushed and striking. “You look so pretty, baby. So pretty.”

Whining the most sexiest wanton sound tonight, the boy’s mouth parts beautifully to release shallow breaths as his spiked lashes flutter closed and his hands splay on each of his stocking covered knees (more likely than not to keep from touching himself). “Please, Alpha.”

“Impatient,” the Alpha murmurs, then groans low in his throat, strokes gaining speed, the friction, the pressure teasing the flames, “Personally I like to– _fuck–_ take my…time.”

Bottom lip between those sharp little canines, the Omega says softly, “Alpha…”

Squeezing the head of his cock, the Alpha hisses, pleasure sharp in his abdomen, “Part your mouth. And let me… _fuck,_ let me see your eyes.”

Every fantasy he’s furnished his mind with doesn’t compare to the reality as Louis peeks through those thick, wet lashes, eyes cobalt flames, mouth fiery pink, forming one soft word, “Please.”

Another growl rips through his throat, cock pulsing and throbbing, so damned close already, “Kitten. You’re so bloody gorgeous waiting–,” but the words get lost around another growl as his cock throbs, pulsing with come that rips pleasure through his body, that streaks thickly on Louis’s face–first over his forehead and his nose before Harry grips his cock hard, feeling it pulse hotly as he aims for Louis’s mouth, come roping on and into his mouth, down his chin. Continuing on and on as the Alpha struggles to breathe, eyes rolling as his hand continues to work through the sensation. One, last riptide spears through his abdomen before Harry curses, forcing his eyes open, evening his breaths.

On the tile, Louis is motionless, kneeling there, messy and sticky and _lovely_ with warm come on his face as he swallows what managed to make it in his mouth. Adorably startled.

Laughing throatily, the Alpha leans down, fingers swiping at the streak on his nose. Expectant, the boy holds out his little tongue, letting Harry wipe his come there, then closing his mouth, humming at the taste, like he _loves_ it. And _fuck Harry thinks he does._

 _“_ ’S a lot,” Louis mumbles, licking at the come on his mouth.

“That’s nothing,” Harry murmurs, satisfied. Well, mostly anyway. “Instinctively my body knows when I have the potential to knock you up. I didn’t knot proper–there wouldn’t have been any point. So that was barely anything compared to the amount I’ll get in your arse when I knot you.” _And I will do everything in my power to make sure it stays in your arse, too._

At the words, Louis whimpers, the flush spreading over his throat.

“You look unbelievably sexy like that,” he compliments, thinking that this needs to hurry because he’s still sporting a semi and the boy looks tired, eyes droopy and sated.

At this, the Omega scrunches his face adorably. “With your spunk all over my face?”

“Fuck… _yeah._ ”

“You’re so odd,” Louis giggles, smiling shyly as he scoops some from his forehead, holding his fingers out in question, “Try it?”

Jacking up his trousers, Harry joins him on the tile, grinning before gripping his wrist (shocking him as he gasps) and pulling the fingers into his mouth, tasting his come, bittersweet on his taste buds, nowhere near good enough for his…singular tastes. All the while, the boy’s mouth forms a perfect, startled _‘o’._ “Is that…Are you…You just…” he sputters cutely.

Laughing, the Alpha nips at the pads of his fingers, then removes them to kiss his fingertips lovingly. “Wasn’t nearly as good as yours would be.”

Blushing scarlet, the boy squirms, and Harry thinks he’s still hard–which he almost wants to help him with, but decides otherwise, because he’s come enough tonight and there is always in the morning. And now he’s going to make it his mission to get the boy beneath him _every night–_ he managed to get through tonight without fucking him, so he reckons–despite what it’ll do to his mental state–that he can handle more. Distracting him, the boy snatches his hand back, asking innocently, “What do I do now?” _Finish it._

“Nothing,” he forces the words. “I’ll clean you up.”

Standing again, Harry reaches for the shower head, turning the tap on its lowest sprinkle, testing the water until its warm then crouching and spraying his face playfully.

Looking startled, the Omega shrieks, “Haz!”

Grinning, the Alpha does this again, watching the come and the water blend and wash away with every stream. Giggling, the boy scrambles forward, slipping against the tile but managing to grab the hose, aiming at him as Harry laughs. Under the spray, water saturates his hair completely, so it’s straighter, the ends curling at his throat. “Bad puppy! Bad!”

Grabbing it back, Harry sprays him again, watching as he sputters around giggles and his face is cleaned, droplets falling from his lashes with every blink. “All clean,” the Alpha decides smugly, dropping the showerhead to smooth back Louis’s fringe, the kissing him hard enough that the boy slips up, and he guides him onto his back on the tile, tasting his mouth (tasting the tinge of his come on Louis’s tongue) and groaning, licking at his sweet mouth. “You make me _mental,_ you know. I’m actually…” he mutters distractedly, “embarrassed by how fast I finished.”

Louis giggles, delighted and curious beneath him, “How long do you usually…um, take?”

Their foreheads together, Harry answers easily, “A while…but you make me feel pubescent, like ‘m touching myself for the very first time. Even then it wasn’t that quick. Honestly, it’s embarrassing.”

“You make it sound like such a bad thing,” the boy mumbles, obviously self-conscious, which won’t do. “I…”

“It’s not,” the Alpha claims seriously, kissing him softly when he goes to protest, “You don’t know…how much I appreciate that you’ve let me give you these things. How…grateful and glad I am to have been the one to help give you pleasure.”

“Yeah, well, I wish I was more experienced…” the boy whispers, shutting his eyes in that painful, guarding way.

“Don’t,” Harry says, gripping his jaw between sure fingers, “Hey, open your eyes.” When the Omega does so, they’re swimming with emotion, so many that he can’t grasp even _one._ “I want all your firsts. They belong to me. I want to take your innocence. You’re mine.”

Louis smiles timidly, the blues glazing over beautifully. “I want you to take it. Take me.”

“Then it’s settled,” he breathes, heart pulling that weird acrobatic act again as he grins fondly.

“Did I like…sign my soul to you or summat?” Louis asks, sounding so suspicious that his grin widens.

“Just your virginity.”

“Oh,” the boy says, shrugging a bit like it’s _nothing._ To an Alpha, it’s _everything,_ because they’re the most possessive arseholes out there–welcome to his world. “Well I reckon that’s okay then.”

“Your soul comes later,” Harry murmurs deviously.

Arching an artful brow, Louis asks warily as his hands slide down Harry’s arms, “Does that mean…that I can have your pups? If I give you my virginity?”

Slightly thrown, the Alpha inhales sharply, muttering seconds-too-late, “Christ, Louis Tomlinson are you _brokering_ with me right now? Auctioning your virginity for babies? Whatever happened to not wanting any?”

Somehow the scarlet deepens as Louis licks his lips hastily, admitting,”I want yours…I was…Just didn’t think you’d want me to have them…’cause I mean, you know, the possibility of…Nevermind. Doesn’t matter. I’m only tryin’ to get what I want.”

 _Christ,_ this boy is going to _kill him._ “And when, pray tell, do you plan to really want this?” he asks seriously.

Winningly, Louis beams, and _fuck_ there goes his heart again. “First time. When you take my virginity I take you…you know…and get your pups.”

“Christ,” the Alpha hisses, shifting to loosen how tight it’s become in his trousers, cock always up for the challenge (fucking thing). “No. That’s not happening. Not the first time.” _I can’t wait that long to have you. That’s not happening ‘cause I’m getting you in bed much sooner than the right time for babies._

Looking stricken ( _damn it, that look is not helping his cause)_ the boy asks, voice small and upset, “But why not? Don’t you want to have me…like that?”

“You know I do…” Harry breathes seriously, pulling the Omega into his lap (against him, the boy shivers, melting easily into his body heat). “But we’re getting you on birth control as soon as possible, Lou. I don’t care if I have to get you the shot because you’re forgetful. You’re taking the appropriate precautionary measures if we’re going to do anything, even what we just did, sexual again. Because you’re so young, we both are, and you’re not having any babies for a long, long time.”

“But…But you _know_ how difficult it is already for male Omega’s to conceive!” Louis points–it’s true that it’s becoming difficult, but not because gender issues, because the male population is dwindling and it’s in working progress to make sure it goes _nowhere._ “Fertility rates are much better at a young age…”

Unable to help it, Harry laughs. “Oh, love, you know it’s not quite so difficult to make it happen. You’re simply trying to get your way. But I’m not having it because I reckon I have to be the responsible adult in this relationship.”

Louis crosses his arms, pouting, “Fine. You don’t get to take my virgin superpowers until it’s time for babies then.”

“Virgin superpowers, hm?” he asks, amusement growing as the boy groans.

“Harry! Be serious!”

“Fine,” the Alpha murmurs smugly, “I don’t think you have the self-control to not offer it up to me every time you’re sexed up, love.”

Knowing this is true, the Omega mimics him, then, “I think it’s _you_ who’s going to cave first, H. ‘M going to get what I want.” _Oh, baby, we both want it…but I’m simply being the grown up._

“You really think I can’t control myself?”

“I _know_ you can’t.” And when Harry glances at him, there’s this extremely dopy grin on his face, and he looks _ecstatic._

“That look is not comforting.”

Louis blinks, then feigns innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about, Alpha.”

“I think you do,” Harry whispers, stroking his mouth. “But I also think you’re tired.” And the boy gives, seeming to realise that it’s _true_ (it’s somewhere near three in the morning),as he declares his face needs to be washed thoroughly, which Harry does promptly, using a warm, damp cloth and facial ( _funny that comes up again)_ soap until the boy is giggling again, grabbing the hose to point it at him.

Growling playfully, Harry tosses the damned thing and shakes his sopping hair at the boy, water flying as Louis shrieks, using his hands to guard him, “Bad, puppy! You’re goin’ into time out for that!”

“Time out?” he asks, pausing with his hair a mess in his face to take Louis’s hands, kissing his palms.”That’s hardly fair. Puppy doesn’t know any better.”

Leaning in, the boy rests his face on Harry’s shoulder, breathing there and mumbling, “Gatta learn somehow.” Running his hands down the line of Louis’s spine, the Alpha wonders what Louis thinks about when he says these things, is he thinking about their relationship, or their persons, or just teasing in general, because Harry _always_ thinks there’s a double meaning behind every one of these statements. But then again, what the hell does he know about Louis Tomlinson, confusion of the century.

When the boy beings to shiver from still being wet, Harry carries him back into the bedroom, where he hands the boy a fresh pair of pants, one of his T-shirts (from the duffle he’d packed for this occasion) and a towel before turning so he can dry and change in privacy.

Yes, Louis _must_ be tired, because he doesn’t tell Harry that he’s finished, instead the Alpha risks a glance after five minutes of silences to find he’s curled up tiny in the middle of the bed, the blankets bundled around him. Changing quickly into pants only (figuring it doesn’t matter much anymore) Harry starts to towel dry his hair when the boy mumbles, “Cuddles. Birthday cuddles after birthday…intercourse,” _adorable, really,_ “’M the big spoon tonight, though, okay?”

“Are you?” Harry asks, slightly amused, but also tired as he turns out the lights, careful to leave a nightlight in case the boy wakes up at those times he’s gone for water or to kick out the guests (the party is going to last, he knows).

“Yes,” he mumbles, uncurling to make grabby hands. “C’mere, baby.”

Somehow Harry ends up being the little spoon, one of Louis’s arms around his waist, the other toying with his still damp hair as the boy breathes against his shoulder. At first the new sleeping situation is tense, slightly uncomfortable, but Louis huddles close, and his eyes shut as the boy breathes, “Best birthday.”

“Glad to hear it. Now go to sleep.”

“So bossy. My bossy Alpha,” he mumbles, already drifting, “But I didn’t say I love you yet.”

_You’re right. You didn’t._

“So say it…” he breathes back into the darkness, relaxing completely when Louis sighs sweetly, “I love you, Harry.”

And when he’s sure his Omega has entered the next world of darkness, soft and quiet breaths and no emotions, the Alpha whispers back, “And I still love you the same.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh...wow...well...  
> What did you all think!? -shrieks into hand, so nervous- [don't look at me]  
> Can't wait to hear thoughts!  
> .xxx


	23. Part Twenty Three;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, hi. So it's been a while. Sorry. Dry spells suck. So this one is very...emotional? A bit smutty. A bit too much of everything maybe. I'm sorry. I don't know. I tried my best.  
> I hope it's not too shit,  
> (this still counts as Saturday! PHEW)  
> Much love and thanks to you all always,  
> .xxx
> 
> As always thanks to my amazing, motivational beta who is a blessing: [bestBetaeva!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com)  
> Thanks to my wicked friends, Harley and Alyssa, who also helped with motivation and such.  
> And always dear to my heart, my sister, Anna, [lovelysister](http://fondlemezayn.tumblr.com)

            In an abrupt rush, Louis wakes again to realise he isn’t alone–not that he expected to be, but  _this_ is entirely unwarranted. In the sumptuous bed at the very least five other unrecognisable bodies occupy the space–the scents  _aren’t_ unrecognisable, however.

Whining in protest to the assault on his functioning senses, Louis huddles close into Harry’s chest, nose buried in his throat as those secure arms tighten around his waist. Planting adoring kisses up the column of his throat, Louis mewls sleepily to catch his attention.

“Kitten,” the Alpha mutters, voice rough and scratchy with sleep, “what the  _fuck_ are these bastards doin’ in our bed?”

Comforted by Harry’s voice, Louis sighs. “Dunno. Don’t care. Leave ‘em.” With those words the Omega is devoured by another upsurge of exhaustion.

♥

                “Out!” someone growls, the achingly Alpha tone causes Louis’s ears to  _ring_ even in sleep.  _Ouch._ Puzzled, the Omega brings his hands over his ears, unable to comprehend what’s happening with the driving desire to stay asleep.

“But–!” someone else whines in protest. Mutely, there are shuffles, followed by a  _click_ that must be the bedroom door shutting behind someone.

“Oh, shut up, already! We didn’t know where the hell to  _go_ ‘cause  _you_ forgot to show us to our rooms, prick! Too focused on yer  _dick!”_ At this Louis’s mouth curves into a weary grin–definitely Niall.

“’M ratha cozy ‘ere, H. Just chill for five minutes.”

Just like that furious shouts erupt in the room, forcing the Omega into complete consciousness. Jolting upright, his head spins uncontrollably even as he clutches his temples, struggling to grasp reality around the darkness and the upheaval.

“I don’t know how the  _fuck everyone ended up in this room,_ ” his Alpha’s voice cuts straight through the rest, an agonizing resonance, “ _but I want everyone out!_ This room was and  _still is off limits!_ It was locked–,”

Unable to withstand the sheer force in those outraged words, Louis shrills, clutching his ears, “Haz! Stop! Stop it! Stop…being so… _Alphaish!_ ”

“YEAH!” the Irish boy hisses, his thin arms coming around Louis’s waist, gentling even as Louis flinches from the contact, skin crawling sensitively from the previous onslaught on his senses. “Stop it! He’s going into his first  _heat soon,_ and that damned tone isn’t going to help him with the pre-heat pains! You damned idiot. Doesn’t the Council teach these things?”  _Pre-heat pains?_ At the thought, knots of anxiety form in Louis’s tummy–though he’s quite tolerant to physical pain by now…he wouldn’t opt to receive it anyway. Not that it’s his choice–when is anything  _ever?_

“Shut up, Horan,” blessedly his voice has lost its force, careful and measured, seemingly in surrender, which Louis sighs in response to, relieved as the entire room relaxes with Harry’s restraint. Careful, ridiculously large hands cup his face, “I’m sorry, boo. I didn’t mean to. You okay?”

Unconsciously, the Omega leans into his touch, and the sleepiness returns with Harry’s proximity–the air of influence that coats Harry’s skin, seeps into everything he touches, provides his Omega the security and comfort needed to recover from whatever is causing him so much exhaustion. “’M ‘kay,” Louis mumbles, smiling shyly, “Startled. And tired. And achy.” With the words Louis realises his bum is  _burning,_ and the cotton material of his pants feels  _rough,_ and causes pinpricks against his sore flesh each time he moves. Warmth flares high on his cheeks as the Omega leans in to breath self-consciously, but desperate for reassurance, “’S…I…My…bum stings.”

“How bad?” the words are clipped, terse, and Louis  _knows_ that Harry’s guilt is inevitable–the Alpha  _always_ finds reason to irritate a situation, to escalate it into the blame-game. Which makes him want to lie, to make light, but that’s  _also_ impossible as Harry  _always_ seems to know… “Just a tad,” he attempts anyway even as the Alpha tips his face in two agile fingers, studying him with an intensity that causes the warmth to spread down his neck. “I see,” the Alpha murmurs seconds into his study, “Here is what’s going to happen: one of these fucks is going to fetch you some pain relievers. And then an aloe rub is in order.”

“Haz,” Louis admonishes mulishly, “They aren’t your servants.” 

“No,” the Alpha allows easily, “ _but_ they are your bloody friends–,”

“Our,” Louis reminds, though Harry continues like he hadn’t spoken, “sleeping in  _our_ bloody bed, in  _our_ bloody room. And I think they owe it to  _me_ ‘cause Ni sleeps like a damned  _monster_ and kicked me in the damned face. And it’s  _bruising._ ”

“I wasn’t sleepin’,” Niall leans in to breathe into his ear, “And it wasn’t accidental.” Kissing him on the cheek sloppily, the Irish boy returns his attention to Harry, “You deserved it, prick.”

“’Cause I care so much,” the Alpha’s sarcasm is impressive enough that Louis bats his lashes at him, encouraging.

“Sounds like you  _do,_ ” Niall challenges, and the Omega thinks the Irish lad is  _incapable_ of keeping his mouth shut. “Complaining ‘bout a little kick. Don’t be such a puss–,”

“Niall!” Louis interrupts sharply. “Don’t you  _dare_ say that word in my presence. Ask Styles what happened to him last night when he said that very same word.”

“What,” the Irish boy laughs, unfazed. “Got his dick wet? I wouldn’t mind that!”

In response to the words Louis’s face  _blazes,_ and his tongue does too apparently, “I will do  _somethin’_ to your…” the sentence lapses, but the Omega plucks an unnecessary amount of courage to finish, “ _dick,_ Horan. But it won’t be anything your little brain can think up.”

Stunned, the Irish lad pauses, and true to his careless nature, turns his face to kiss him right on the mouth. Gasping, Louis tears away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as Niall plops back onto the mattress, cackling so loudly that the Omega can’t help but join in– _only a little, though._ All at once he’s being lifted (sheets and all),  and impulsively binds his legs around Harry’s waist, tipping his head backwards as the Alpha walks them, lolled by the sounds of the boys’ teasing catcalls and Niall continuous snickers until he’s being set down on the counterpane that must be in the connecting bathroom.

As the locks are bolted, Louis winces at the pressure of the counterpane against his sore bum. Unwilling to voice his discomfort or give life to Harry’s inescapable blame, the Omega simply fidgets, though one large hand encases his, tugging him down to his feet. Sighing in absolute relief, Louis smiles timidly, and the Alpha murmurs apologetically, “Sorry. Forgot,” then reaches over to fiddle with what Louis finds to be the tap, handing him a toothbrush with toothpaste lining the bristles.

Popping the brush in his mouth, Louis pulls foamy, (what he hopes to be) funny faces until Harry taps his bum playfully, and he yelps, giggling and pointing his toothbrush at him, “ _Puppy! Do I have to put you in time out? Again!”_

“No, kitten,” the Alpha murmurs, though the mischievous tone doesn’t reassure him. “Puppy will be on his best behaviour from now on.”

“Mmm-Hmm,” Louis murmurs suspiciously, but finishes up with his mouth, gurgling mouthwash minutely afterwards. Then, when Harry’s finished, somehow he’s back where he started, both arms around the Alpha’s shoulders, legs circled at his waist. And the Omega desperately wants to mold himself to the Alpha, wishes there were superglue handy. God, he wants to be wrapped, he wants to be unfolded, he wants to be–, “Haz,” he says without permission, “I want you  _bad.”_

“Good…because I couldn’t go without,” the Alpha breathes back, and it feels like they’re molded,  _inseparable._

“Are we dreamers, Harry?” At the mere though, Louis’s heart skips a beat, and his smile is wide enough that his cheeks ache.

“Think we’re in too deep to decide at this point.”

“I want to be deep as I can be,” Louis admits shyly.

At this the Alpha bursts into boyish snickers, a sound Louis feels down to his toes and the tips of his fingers and in the nest of butterflies in his tummy and he’s so in love his lungs seem to have lost their will to breathe unless the oxygen is tainted with Harry Styles’ scent. “That does not sound comforting, lovely.”

Pouting, the Omega curls impossibly closer, tightening his legs. “This close isn’t nearly close enough. I want to be in  _here,_ ” he brings his arm around so his hand flattens on Harry’s chest; underneath his palm his heartbeat is steady, strong.

Tension grasps the Alpha’s shoulders as he buries his face in Louis’s throat, whispering oddly raggedly, “You’re already there. You’ve always been there. That’s  _yours._ ”

Melting in this euphoric state, Louis breathes, “Only mine?”

“I can only have  _one_ kitten pissin’ on my heart,” the Alpha responds in unsteady amusement–the sort that can disappear with one wrong word.

Careful to choose his words wisely, Louis murmurs, “’M the lucky kitten? Meow. Meow.”

“My pretty little kitty.”

“Puppy and kitten,” Louis sighs, in love with the mere realisation, “Unheard of.”

“Omega and Alpha,” Harry quips slyly. “So heard of.”  _Not blind Omega and Council Alpha,_ Louis thinks sadly, hiding his face in Harry’s lengthy waves, inhaling that heady evergreen scent. “LouisandHarry,” he reminds  _himself_ steadily.

“Everything,” the Alpha claims, and Louis thinks in  _his_ dark world  _everything_ can’t even compete.

♥

            As the music starts up again, Louis nods his head in time with the beat, swimming in another of Harry’s jumpers with the hood over his head, clamping one hand over his mouth to stifle the bubbling laughter when Niall finally starts in, “but for me to rap like a computer must be in my genes, I got a laptop in my back pocket…” In his lap the Irish boy wiggles his bum, and Louis can’t help the laughter now, though they’d practised a million or so times since Harry’d left to drop Zayn home (which Louis had  _thrown a fit over,_ because he was asked to stay behind with Niall–why is still on his mind). “Made a livin’ off Froggy’s wealth, and a killin’ off it…” Continuing on so quickly Louis cannot manage to catch the exact words until it’s his cue, “’Cause ‘m beginning to feel like Niall’s Rap God, Rap God.” Somehow he manages around the laughter, not in time with the beat at all, blanking on the following lines but attempting to make up for it by mumbling unintelligibly until Niall’s rapping once again.

Abruptly the music stops, and Louis frowns, but before he can ask an amused, deep drawl sounds, “What’s goin’ on? Why do I feel like I’m watchin’ a futuristic ‘8 Mile’?”

Losing his pout at the sound of Harry’s voice, Louis mumbles in an attempted American accent, “’Cause we hustle hard.”

“Sugar babies!” Niall agrees enthusiastically, shaking in his lap. “Hustle hustle hustle hard!”

“Smack that all on the floor. Smack that give me some more,” Louis sings as Niall starts in on the beat, “Smack that 'till you get sore. Smack that oh-oh!”

 “What have you done to my boy, Ireland?”

“New age, new me!” Louis chirps in response, smirking a bit. “Tommo the Untouchable! I feel you creeping, I can see it from my shadow!”

“PREACH!” the Irish boy squawks, clapping obnoxiously until Louis must be  _pink_ all over, and hide’s his face in the hood. “That was so  _fab,_ Lou! You killed it!” Under the compliments the Omega bites his lip against the smile threatening to overcome his features. “Lovely voice, absolutely  _lovely!_ ”

Incredulous, Louis lifts an artful brow, then mumbles, “Liar,” before returning to concealment.

“Awe!” Niall whines, yanking at the hood, trying to pry it free of Louis’s unyielding grasp. “Louis, I wouldn’t  _lie to you!_ How could you think that?”

Victim to the guilt-trip, the Omega reveals his blind eyes. “Because  _he,_ ” his index finger points in the Alpha’s general direction, “wouldn’t lie to me either! And  _he_ didn’t say a word!”

“Harry! Getcha arse over here!” Niall demands so indignantly that Louis wants to melt between the floorboards, he’s so  _embarrassed._ “No!” he whines helplessly, “No! No! No! I am  _not_ fishing for compliments! And–,” someone places one strict hand over his mouth, and Louis shrieks, trying to speak though it comes as gibberish until with an entirely miserable groan the Omega gives, crossing his arms petulantly.

“Speak, young Froggy! Speak wise words of wisdom!” Niall commands.

“Not exactly my taste in music,” the Alpha murmurs quietly, “but I thought it was lovely. And Ireland is absolutely right.”

“You’re just saying that,” Louis tries, then groans around the hand again, pleading with his eyes to be freed. Assisting, Harry pries Niall’s hand away from his mouth so Louis repeats clearly, “You’re just sayin’ that ‘cause Niall is probably holding a knife to your…a knife to your…”  _Oh come on, Louis! Just say it!_

When he’s about to (he honestly  _was),_ Niall finishes for him, “Dick, Lou, dick.”

 “Shut up,” Louis grumbles, then nods, “A knife to that.”

“Oh, lovely,” the Alpha laughs quietly. “You can feel for yourself that there’s no knife. I wouldn’t trust this one to get that close.  _And,_ ” agile fingers hook underneath his chin, exposing his stupid,  _candid_ eyes. “And I don’t say things I don’t mean, I told you. I think you have a beautiful voice. High, but soft all the same.”

At this the Omega flushes, then lowers his eyes, mumbling foolishly, “Oh.”

Bursting into pleased laughter, Niall stands, clapping his hands, “Whelp! My job here is done! Josh should be here any minute now! Your transformation is nearly complete, Louis. Next step: some actual  _attempts._ ”

“Hey!” Louis protests sulkily, “I tried my best.”

Snorting, like it’s entirely ridiculous, the Irish boy says, “Uh huh. Get ya dick rubbed a bit so yer in a bett’ah mood, then come back to me! And have fun on your little date!” Without another word the Irish boy starts away, leaving behind fading footsteps, and an echo of closing doors. Moaning in absolute mortification, Louis hides behind the hood again, and curls up on the stretchy, plush leather sofa, knees and thighs to his chest.

“Louis, love,” the Alpha whispers, so huskily that his Omega, easily triggered these days, rouses, purring, and with him comes the yearning heat pooling in his belly as his mouth parts against the leather, and his hands curl into little fists. “Your bum feeling better?”

Pressing his thighs together, Louis realises his bum is perked up in Harry’s direction, and he’s wearing the tightest trousers he owns, the white ones Niall claimed Harry drooled over. “No,” he whispers, though it’s not entirely true he’s inclined to say  _anything_ to receive what Harry reluctantly gives. But it’s only been a few days since his birthday, and to his discontent the ache has mostly faded. Eagerly keeping posture, Louis says breathily, “I want more.” 

“More?” the Alpha asks gently, seemingly amused as one large hand flattens low on his back, sneaking beneath the jumper to his skin until he’s tingling in delicious ways. Bearing down, Harry forces him to arch, then braces over him, “Let me see you. Stop hiding.”

Shoving the hood away, baring his features, the humiliation is forgotten as Louis rounds his eyes, pleading for what his body  _needs._ On fire, the lack of sensation is almost painful as he sucks his bottom lip, moisturizing, wetting, and tempting. Seeming to realise what he’s asking for the Alpha hums, that throaty, pleased sound, “Again? Just gave it to you not four hours ago.”  _So long…_

Sheets covering the carpet in Harry’s room lost underneath their little fort, the sheets and the pillows their escape from reality, taking and giving in slow, loving movements. But he doesn’t want  _slow_ right now, not when he needs to be  _taken care of._ At the recollection, Louis whines, releasing his bottom lip. “Yeah,” the Alpha says huskily, knowingly. “You don’t need it again.”

 _Yes I do…_ “Please,” Louis breathes, desperation chiming in his voice as he lifts trembling palms to curl his fingers in the loose waves hanging with Harry braced over him. “Need it.”

A low groan vibrates between them as the Alpha sits up, snaking an arm around his waist, hiking his hips so Louis is gasping, bum pressed tight to the bulging outline of Harry’s cock. Temperate skyrocketing, his breathing comes fast, shallow, desperate. “Always need it now,” the Alpha grunts, and the sound is  _want,_ as his hips work slowly against his arse, “No shame.”

Panting, Louis rocks his bum back, and that unknown, scary desperation to be  _filled_ causes him to gasp again, hyperaware of his secret place dampening his silken panties. “Alpha,” the Omega says in confusion, though the sound fades into an unbidden moan as his hand moves to his tummy, holding its spot when he really aches to palm at himself, “Please.”

“Christ, kitten,” it’s a growl as hands find his hips, gripping them roughly. “Just…touch,” he sounds torn. “Do it.”

Relieved, frantic, the Omega struggles to shove his hand in his trousers, almost crying when the Alpha surges roughly, and under the force he sprawls out.  _Yes._ Friction has his hips grinding into the leather, and he’s making soft, “ _uh”’s_ as the thrusts against his bum force his hips ever  _better_ against the leather, and his arousal is pulsing,  _throbbing._ It’s only seconds in that the telltale incendiary heat builds in his tummy, and his nails scratch at the leather, eyes squeezed shut. “Yes,” he moans brokenly, “Yes, take me.”

The hold becomes forceful on his hips, a delicious ache as Harry growls, “Mine.”

“Yours,” the mewl escapes his parted lips as he squeezes his length over his trousers, squeezing tightly around the friction until his mouth is wet, and he’s screaming into the leather as the wet sticky stains his trousers, and the pleasure pours hotly over his body. Breathing roughly, the Alpha stops, distancing them as he’s done every night prior while Louis shakes, crying softly at the delicious sensation.

Minutes pass in the same trance, but with one last shudder, Louis slumps, flexes his achy fingers, humming happily as the heat makes its swift extinguish until he doesn’t feel like he’s bursting into flames anymore.

A hand circles his ankle, where the trousers have been rolled up, and Harry asks tightly, “Okay?”

“Bett’ah,” Louis hums, smiling blearily into the damp leather, “Thank you, baby.”

“I live to hear those sounds you make, kitten,” Harry murmurs roughly, and Louis blushes to the tips of his ears, unable to control his honeyed limbs. “Cuddle me…”

“No time,” the Alpha says. “If you do recall we’ve a date tonight. Starting at exactly seven. It’s six twenty three now.” Louis doesn’t question how he knows the time so exactly, instead opting to offer, “We can skip it.”

Rigidly the Alpha stands, then snarls, angry without warning, “I want to take you on a bloody date, Louis.”

Flinching from the tone, the Omega sits up, holding his knees to his chest, squirming at how the sticky feels against his thighs. “Sorry…” he mumbles, ashamed as he stumbles to an unsteady stance, post-orgasm and more than a bit terrified. “I…I…I’ll…Just let me change.”

Groaning, a frustrated sound, Harry tries to catch him around the waist, but Louis quickly stumbles away from the contact, whispering, “No. P-Please don’t.”

“ _You don’t,_ ” the Alpha commands. “Don’t be upset with me for wanting to take you out. You’re not some toy to fuck and then forget about, Louis. I don’t want that shit.”

“Jesus, Harry!” Louis hisses, raising his hands in frustration. “Stop. Nobody was implying that! Why are you so…”  _touchy?_ “Ugh, what is your  _problem?”_

“My problem,” Harry’s voice raises in strength, and he’s almost shouting, the sound so close that Louis wants to cringe, but doesn’t dare, holding his ground, “is  _you,_ Louis!”

A crushing weight settles in his chest as Louis hisses, “Take me home!” Traitor tears flood his blind eyes as the need to escape crashes into the weight…except he’s unable to recall the layout of the room. Trapped, he continues frantically, “I want to go home. I never want to hear from you again! I never ever want–,”  _to hear your arrogant Alpha voice again._

Without any indication the Alpha stalks over to him, towering at his intimidating height, though hands gentle on either side of his waist, crushing him to Harry’s chest as Louis struggles against him. “No! Don’t touch me! Never touch–!”

“I’m sorry,” Harry breathes willfully enough that Louis pauses. “I didn’t mean it how it came across. I would never…mean it like that.”

Scalding, salty tears slide soundlessly down his burning cheeks. “You always mean it like that! You don’t want me!” he cries, though he’s not sure it’s true, but the pent up worry rushes to the surface with the intention of being voiced. “You don’t want me at  _all!_ You never want to touch me. You never want me to touch  _you!_ I’m always on my belly or my hands are held or I’m not allowed! Do I disgust you so much?”

“No,” somehow he sounds horrified as Louis feels. “No, kitten, no. I always want you. I always–,”

“Stop,” Louis breathes angrily. “Just stop. I won’t ever ask again. I won’t…I won’t  _make you_ touch me again. I love you, Harry. I love you more than my body’s wants.”  _My body’s need._

“Louis,” the Alpha growls, surpassing his anger now, “Stop! Stop with that bull–,”

Unable to stop the sound, Louis giggles stuffily, whispering in disbelief, “We are both wanting each other to stop.”  _So maybe we should…Just stop altogether._

“No. Listen to me, Louis. Listen well,” the Alpha orders until the Omega snivels, nods as hands fold on either side of his damp cheeks, swiping the tears away. “I can’t say I want you enough. I can’t. I try to show you every time I touch  _you._ But it’s not working is it, lovely?”

Louis shakes his head, ashamed of his errant behaviour.

“No,” the Alpha breathes thoughtfully, regarding him with those bloody observant eyes. “Didn’t think so.” In response the Omega tries to smile weakly…but his bottom lip only wobbles.

“You want to touch me?” Harry asks so puzzled that Louis loses his calm in seconds.

“Yes! Why is that such an outrageous desire?”

“Because,” Harry answers bitterly. “You touch me when you don’t touch me.”

“You’re not making any sense!” Louis shrills, wishing the Alpha could understand that Louis does not process thoughts the way his peculiar mind does.

“I’m trying to…” he seems to struggle to find the words, and the force of his frustration sparks the ambience, causing the Omega to raise trembling hands, brushing the stray strands of hair from his face, cooing, “’S okay, baby, it’s okay.”

“It’s not!” he snarls sharply. “It’s not okay if you’re crying over it. I don’t want to be the cause of any more of your tears. No more than I have to be!”

Reminded that there will  _always_ be tears Harry is responsible for, Louis swallows around the tightness in his throat, then murmurs despite his Omega’s pleas, “You give me enough already. I don’t need…I don’t need to touch or be touched. And I won’t have either if you…don’t want it.”

“I want to, I want you to,” Harry contradicts. “I want you to touch me, but I don’t…I don’t know how to…I can’t…” As the frustration builds, Louis stretches on his tiptoes, “Tell me something.” When there is no response, he asks timidly, “Do you want me to touch you? Honestly.”

“I don’t know…”

Lashing words, but not unbearable–Louis nods, kissing him chastely on the corner of the mouth for his honesty, “Alright, is there any particular reason why?”

“Tons.” A bit unbearable.

Holding the fort, Louis asks steadily, “Gimme one for both.”

“Yes because having you touch me is the best fuckin’ feeling in the world and no because the same. And then...you’re so damned difficult to talk to. You only ever open up when you’re sexed up, and your tongue is loose with pleasure. Mostly when you’re undressed.”

Blanching, anxiety crawls up his throat, and he lies–to protect himself. “I don’t know what you are talking about, H. Really don’t.”

“Yes, you do. You only call me H when you’re trying to seem detached. You ignore me,” the Alpha murmurs seriously, and Louis’s heart crumbles at the raw emotion in his voice. “You ignore me when I try to talk to you sometimes. Because it makes you feel in control, doesn’t it?” It’s so true that he scrambles to find some excuse, to find… _something_ that will make sense to Harry without making him out to be cruel.

“I adore you,” he whispers sincerely. “I can’t leave you alone. You know that.”

“And yet,” the Alpha mutters, an eerie edge to his amusement, “you do so all the time.”

Pinching his eyes shut, the Omega turns his face, admitting shakily, “Before our start even began, H, I anticipated the end.”

“Damn it, Louis, when will you  _listen to me?_ There is no  _end!_ ”

A small, sad smile curves his mouth, plays cruelly with his heartstrings as he shrugs.

“Is anything ever going to give?” its quiet–so quiet that Louis wants to weep, he  _hates_ when Harry uses that tone. That  _I-don’t-know-what-to-do-anymore,_ that  _I-give-up_ tone. “Because I feel like I am never going to get you to open up. To give yourself to me.”

Louis swallows, then murmurs, “You already have all of me.”

“That’s a lie,” Harry whispers fiercely.

Beginning to tremble, almost hyperventilating, Louis manages to choke, “I want you to have all of me.”

“That’s a lie, too.”  _God, it’s not fair how he knows my facets, the off-kilter grooves and valleys and ruins that make me up._

“I want you to have most of me.” This time…it’s true.

“Do you?”

 _Of course, silly Alpha, who wouldn’t want someone like you to have them?_ “Yes,” the word is a mere breath. “’M just scared.”  _I can’t seem to even give most of me…because when you leave you will take most of me with you…and then I’ll be nothing forevermore._ Again, the thoughts creep over him, and they have since a few nights ago. And…sometimes Louis entertains them, becomes some pathetic masochist, listens to them,  _believes_ them.

“You think I’m not?” An incredulous note is definite in his voice.

“Of course not,” Louis states the obvious– _what could you possibly be afraid of?_

“Well you’re  _wrong,_ ” the Alpha argues viciously. “I am always afraid that you’re goin’ to wake up and change your mind. And I am  _always fucking afraid_ that I will lose you before I’m given the chance to really have you.”

“You have me  _now,_ ” Louis snivels, eyes misting with the threat of tears. “You have me now, Haz. Isn’t that…Can’t that be enough?”

“No. And it won’t  _ever_ be.”  _Oh…no…no…_

With no choice, Louis swallows, dashes at his tears, and says exactly what he  _didn’t want to,_ “Then I reckon we’re going to have to make s-s-sure this is forever then.”

“I reckon so,” his voice is almost hesitant.

“Hi,” Louis smiles timidly, “I’m Louis. Louis Tomlinson. And I…” the next words are forced, but as true as anything else, “I finally feel like I can live entirely happy without my vision. Given the chance, if I’m with Harry Styles, I can live entirely happy without my…vision.”

“Hey,” the Alpha murmurs, grabbing his hands gently. “I’m Harry. Harry Styles. And I want to wake up to Louis Tomlinson for the rest of my life. Given the chance, I would be his vision.”

Those words cause Louis’s heart to soar so high it might never return to his chest–forever in Harry Styles’ hands.

♥

            “I changed my mind,” Louis mumbles sleepily into the phone, struggling to stay awake (though he’d been asleep not ten minutes ago) with how Harry’s humming into the phone. “No pickles. I want…chips! Mmm.”

Over the line, the humming sadly stops, replaced with Harry’s boyish laugh. Reminds him of chocolate, Harry’s laugh does. “Okay, no pickles. Chips. Got it.” Dimly there’s the sound of rustling, and the Omega has the sneaking suspicion the Alpha had fallen asleep when Louis did an hour ago and that’s what’s been taking so long. When an engine purrs to life, his suspicions are confirmed.

“And chocolate,” Louis says hopefully, deciding to comment when the Alpha is in his grips. Stretching, a little, unbidden purr starts in his throat as he catches the scent caught in his sheets–evergreen, body wash, Harry. “And you.”

“Chips,” the Alpha murmurs deviously, “Chocolate. And me. Very lovely choices.”

Sensitive as he is, when his tummy grumbles, Louis frowns, touching the pudgy skin. “Am I getting fat, Harry?”

“Where is this coming from?” is Harry’s response–his heart drops into his stupid chub.

“I am, aren’t I?” he breathes sadly, moisture gathering in the corners of his stupid eyes.

“That’s certainly not what I said.”

Sniveling, the Omega curls in on himself to hide the weight that’s added. “You don’t have to say it.”

“Louis, c’mon, lovely. Don’t–,”

“Well I want my chips and my chocolate anyway. I’m excluding you from the list.” At this the Alpha laughs, exasperating him. “Now that’s a bit–,” Interrupting, a pathetic, miserable sob starts up in his throat, because he’s so  _emotional,_ and his body’s out of control, constantly temperatures too hot, and then too cold, and shaky, and flushed and sensitive and  _ravenous._ “Sweetheart, don’t cry.”

“Shut up,” Louis hisses, the tears making their escape to his cheeks. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Harry assures him softly. “Just listen. I’m coming now. And I’ll be there with your chips and your chocolate. How’s that sound?”

Louis snivels, breaths hitching. “B-B-Better.”

“Okay,” the Alpha murmurs, tone remaining soft, soothing him. “And I will feed you. And then we can cuddle. How about that?”

“Cuddles?” he asks shakily, easily persuaded by that.

“Cuddles,” Harry confirms. “All the cuddles for my emotional heat-ridden Omega.”

At this Louis giggles stuffily. “Me.”

“Yes, you, lovely boy,” the Alpha hums that sound Louis loves so much. “My lovely boy.”

Nodding, Louis’s mouth tilts in a smile as the tears steadily slow, and the tension drains from his body, though the thoughts still prod at him. “I’m timing you. Ten minutes.”

 “You’re on.”

♥

            By now Harry doesn’t know what he’s doing–okay, he does, but  _fuck_ if he can grasp  _why._  Then again with Louis there doesn’t  _ever_ seem to be a plausible reason other than that Harry adores him (which how plausible is that, honestly?). Adores the Omega to the point of obsession–one he isn’t able to resist, not that he’s tried overly much. Prepared for the worst, Harry slings his bag over one shoulder and shuffles up onto the tree, hitching the window open to slip through inaudibly.

On his feet again the Alpha inhales through his nose impulsively,  _the scent_ slithering through his senses to his lungs where flowers sprout, threatening to suffocate him.  _Christ,_ it’s  _everywhere,_ the floral, rich fragrance of the boy’s steadily approaching heat–his pheromones trounce the oxygen, they’re so  _potent_. Three weeks–that’s the time-limit. The abrupt realisation that it’s so soon, the  _clinging perfume,_  causes his Alpha to claw at his chest, and his cock to strain at his fly, thick and heavy and waiting. A low, demanding growl builds in his chest, but then he catches sight of the boy huddled underneath mounds of blankets, curled up tiny, the little  _v_ between his brows.

Over his skin the buzz thrills, and his gaze softens unimaginably as he makes it over to the bed, sitting on the corner of  _his_ proclaimed side. “Kitten,” it’s a rough breath, rough with want–fuck that, rough with  _need_.

The blankets shift with the boy’s movement as wide, wet doe-eyes reveal themselves from a slit in the blankets. “My food.”

Recalling this, the Alpha takes the bag from his shoulder and opens it, removing the paper carrier of fast food chips, and the chocolate bars (Louis hadn’t made a preference, so he simply bought every possible type in the shop; almond, caramel, peanut butter, the list goes on). Quietly, when the Omega sits up, blankets draped over his shoulders, Harry hands the chips over. Sweet, strange emotion sparkles in those round, beautiful eyes as Louis pops one in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Mmm,” he hums softly, pleasure dripping from the sound onto Harry’s satisfaction.

“Love me again?” the Alpha asks teasing as the Omega stuffs his little mouth with chips happily. Pausing at the question, Louis tilts his head, then swallows, “Chocolate. Gimme my chocolate, Styles.”

“What kind would my Omega fancy?”

Smiling, Louis breathes, “Surprise me.”

“Thought you didn’t like surprises,” Harry murmurs, smirking until he catches how Louis’s mouth parts and moisture glistens in his eyes, glistens with tears, with the moonlight shuttering through the shades.  _Oh, Christ._ “Y-You remember that,” the Omega breathes, so touched it’s ridiculous. Uncomfortable, the Alpha shrugs, about to start for the chocolate as a distraction when the Omega starts in with the crying. “You’re so perfect,” he sniffles, and  _damn is it endearing._ Laughing awkwardly, Harry smoothes his hair back, and murmurs, “Louis, love, this is an almighty rollercoaster ride we’ve got goin’.”

With a shaky giggle, the Omega whispers, “I love rollercoaster’s. I do not like this.”

Sympathy settles in his chest as he strokes the stray tears away, “I will remember that. When this is over in a few weeks I shall take you to another carnival.” The thought shoots across his nerves like tiny shards of glass, fraying them, slicing them open.  _I’m going to die if I don’t claim you…_ Dramatic, yes, but  _fuck_ it’s how he’s feeling at this point _._

“Okay,” he snivels, smiles watery. “Now give me chocolate. And surprise me.” Wordless, unwilling to voice his desperation (Louis has enough to deal with), he fishes in the bag until finding the one he wants, tearing it open, and dragging the wrapper down enough that the chocolate is revealed. With unsteady hands, he presents it to the Omega who takes, nibbling before a sunny smile brightens his face. “You’re so plain. I should’ve reckoned I’d get the normal stuff.”

“Would you like something else?” he asks, resenting the scratch of emotion in his voice as he reaches into the bag again.

“No!” Louis giggles like he’s being foolish. “This is what I want.”

Shrugging, the Alpha tosses the bag on the carpet, then toes out of his boots to sit cross-legged on the mattress. Knowing this is acceptable Harry takes the chips back, then, after some effort, the chocolate. The broken look in the boy’s eyes makes his blood run cold _,_ and has him blurting in reassurance, “I’m not taking it away. The agreement was that I would feed  _you,_ yeah.”

Satisfied with this, Louis nods, more pleased to be fed than Harry’s ever seen before as he shuffles forward so their knees are touching underneath the blankets. With his small hands wringing in his lap, the Omega waits as Harry chooses the best looking chip, teasing him, “Vroom, vroom, ‘ere comes the race-car.”

With an adorable, quiet snicker, Louis grumbles, “Feed me already, H. I’ve been waiting eighty years.” Exaggeration is his latest go-to, but that’s okay, Harry doesn’t mind.

Sobering, the Alpha does so, feeding him the best looking chips until the Omega whispers, “Now chocolate.” Tossing the remainder into the bag, Harry brings the chocolate bar to his mouth, teasing his lips until he takes a little bite, peeking through those thick lashes. Watching him eat is more erotic than it should be, but with his fragrance, mostly  _anything_ Louis does is erotic. Tense, the Alpha feeds him dutifully; every once in a while he’ll grab the water bottle nestled in the pillows until they’ve gone through two bars and Harry feels like the most privileged Alpha in the world.

“Haz,” the Omega murmurs tentatively. “Why don’t you stop me from eating these things? I know that Alphas are allowed to…monitor their Omegas’ diet…”

At this the Alpha rolls his eyes–such a moronic advantage to give the majority of dickheaded Alphas. Some laws, Harry will  _never_ understand, but sure as hell  ~~when~~   _if_ he’s takes his seat he’ll see that they become void. “’S not my belly, lovely. It’s  _yours._ And you eat whatever your little tummy desires.”

Flushing deliciously, the Omega’s little pink tongue swipes across his bottom lip, and Harry’s eyes follow the line, watching his mouth form words, “’S not very little anymore.” And the way his eyes dim, worse than normal, causes Harry to stiffen, muscles coiled as he tosses the wrappers, and strokes his soft, strawberry coloured lips. “There isn’t one day,” he whispers sincerely, “that you’re anything less than beautiful. Every bit of you, every curve, hollow, valley, dip is awe-worthy. Your tummy,” the words are extremely soft, almost soft as his tummy, “is so soft…All of you is…but your tummy…not by any means fat. And if you were that would hardly make a difference, I lo...I adore you in any way as long as you’re healthy and  _you adore you._ ”  _But I have the sneaking suspicion you never adore you–and that ruins me._

“What if I was three hundred stone,” the Omega asks, testing him.

Grinning warily, Harry murmurs, “ _That_ would not be healthy. Nor livable.”

“So you’re sayin’ my diet is  _mine only?_ And you will love me no matter what?” he asks gently. At that intimate word, the Alpha swallows, floundering until Louis continues in a solicitous whisper, “I would let you have that power, you know.”

“Don’t want it,” the Alpha decides seriously. “And never let  _anyone_ have that control, kitten.  _Never._ Especially not me.”   _I can’t be trusted with any control over you._ At the fierce protectiveness in his voice those eyes go round, softening, “But you said–,”

“I’ve said a lot,” Harry decides slowly, “But never once have I said I want you to give me complete power over you.”

“You said you wanted all of me,” the Omega reminds.

Groaning in absolute frustration, the Alpha shakes his head, “Christ, I need to choose my words more carefully.” Silent, the boy lowers those eyes until Harry breathes, “I want all of you in the healthiest way possible. I make a shitload of sense, I know, but I want what I can and should be allowed to have. Same to you.”

Louis whispers in confusion, “What would that entitle?”

“The only Alpha allowed to make you happy. To touch. To own. To own for a few moments. To mate. To bond. The only Alpha allowed to feed you what  _you’d_ like when you’d like it. The only Alpha you tell and trust with every one of your secrets. The only Alpha to bear all the pain you hold. The only Alpha to have that special place in that special heart. The only Alpha allowed to be your eyes.”

With a whisper soft breath the Omega parts those lips. “I want to be yours.” Those words spark the impending inferno, and his Alpha thunders to life as his eyes sharpen, watching as the small boy squirms under the intensity, and the fragrance roars in his nose. “No. I told you…not every night.”  _Fuck, let’s do it every night until we can’t anymore–let’s do it while I can knot you without getting you pregnant._

Louis tips his head back, lashes casting shadows on his sharp cheeks. “The…day…is for talking. The night…is for taking.”

“Little one,” he tries as tension grasps his muscles in effort to stay still. “It’s–,”

“Make me yours,” the little Omega tempts softly, skin rosy with his flush, electric eyes flashing vividly. “Yours, Alpha, make me yours.”

And he’s already  _lost–_ making a sound between a groan and a growl, the Alpha kneels, tearing the blankets from around him and shoving the material to the end of the mattress as his hands splay over the thick of his thighs in those obscene tights, displaying  _everything he craves to see._ The lacy, tempting design of his panties, the aching outline of his cock. Dragging him down the mattress so he’s sprawled, the Alpha bares his canines as the fire  _buzzes_ over his skin. Against the sheets the Omega is so stunning, and Harry would  _fuck him_ right now, were it possible, but it’s  _not, and it’s never screwed with his head more._

Soft, petite, fringe an absolute mess in his face, the boy lifts his arms so Harry shoves the material of his top up and over his head, tossing it. Skin smooth, porcelain with winter, his tight little nipples are peaking, his belly soft. Seeming to have lost control of his bloody hands, the Alpha grabs the waistband of his tights, peeling them down his creamy thighs, growling in approval when Louis lifts his hips so he can pull them down completely. More flawless, smooth skin under his hands, and the words are uncontrollable, “You’re so lovely. Sexual. I always want you  _naked._ Want to take these frilly little panties off and get you naked underneath me.”

Mewling, the boy’s lashes flutter, and he whispers, “No Alpha’s seen me…n-n-naked.”

 _Christ._ Groaning low in his throat, the Alpha feels his cock throb at the idea of being the only Alpha to see what Louis’s kept strictly covered. Slipping his fingers underneath the thin material, he toys with the frills of the midnight blue garment, whispering huskily, “Show me then. Let me see you.”

Against the mattress the little figure begins to tremble, and his scent is so  _thick_ that Harry can’t slow down, doesn’t wait on the response, carefully tugging them down, gentle as to not hurt his pretty cock, then down his legs, over his ankles, to bunch it in his fist, shoving it in his back pocket as his eyes latch onto Louis’s flushed pink cock, leaking steadily low at his tummy. “Christ,” he says hoarsely when the Omega arches, spreading his legs a bit to provide the most sexual view Harry’s seen yet, tight balls, smooth inner thighs. Smooth  _everything–everywhere._

“H-Haz,” Louis whispers so nervously that Harry places one reassuring hand on his knee, thumbing at the skin, and muttering roughly, “You are unbelievably breathtaking.” But it’s obvious Louis is nervous, exposed in ways he’s never been before, shivering and scared, which won’t do. Even squeezing his wild eyes shut, the image is branded, but his hand removes itself from Louis’s skin, instead joining the other to tear his shirt over his head, tossing it to lie on his back, ordering steadily, “Take my trousers off, little one.”

Sinfully bare, the boy sits up, scrambles onto his thighs, whining so pitched the Alpha manages to catch the sound over the blood rushing to his head (more importantly, his cock). In fumbling, inexperienced movements, dainty hands struggle against the button, and with his teeth grinding Harry watches his flighty hands wrestle until  _finally_ making his purchase when his cock is so hard it’s painful. Too hastily, Louis tugs the zipper down, almost against where it would certainly  _hurt._

Unwilling to discourage him, the Alpha stays quiet, flexing his hips as the pressure grows, watching him–a little tease in this state, cheeks flushed, feathery hair matted in his eyes, nose scrunching adorably like it does when he’s concentrating.

Determined, the Omega works to tug the skintight trousers down his thighs, and smirking, Harry lifts his hips until they’re down enough that his cock is  _fucking free,_ curved thick against his stomach as he hisses, squeezes his eyes shut again though the only images the action brings are of glorious porcelain skin and–Seeming to forget that his trousers aren’t completely off, but bunched at his damned ankles, the boy straddles him clumsily. A little hand circles him the best it can, thumbing at the head of his cock as his heart pounds in time with the length, and his teeth are clenched to keep back the growls, groans,  _noise_ rising in his throat. Being worked, his hips thrust into the tight grip, jostling the Omega until Louis shifts, and he anticipates the Omega turning on his back, but  _fuck, no, not this time._ Pressing his cock between his arse, Louis grinds down until the head of his cock slides against his swollen, burning little hole. Gasping, the boy slides again, then the highest scream to have escaped him starts up–the sensation slams him into instinctive action as his heart crashes into his ribcage, and he pins the Omega on his back, clamping a hand over his mouth.

Through irregular, ragged breaths, Harry holds extremely still, head throbbing against his slick flesh. Urgent, his mouth replaces his hand over Louis’s, “Yeah, kitten,” his voice says as his control lapses, and his hand finds his cock, pressing his head hot against his lovely, leaking hole. “Just like that.”

So virgin, the boy is so tight, impossible to breach, and he’s so damned  _grateful_ as his tongue filthily traces the sweet chocolate inside of his mouth. Muffling his sexual sounds, between his ass, the Alpha moves his cock impulsively, up, down, ecstasy ripping up his spine as his arm snakes around his waist, lifting the light weight so his free hand is to grip one full, round globe. Rocking slowly, desperate to  _get inside,_ the Alpha lets the little, pleased sounds drive him until he’s roughening in his flexes, trying so hard to stay in control, to  _lose control_ that his muscles strain, and he’s sweating, the bed frame knocking into the wall with every hot movement.

“Haz,” Louis whimpers frantically, panting prettily, skin slick and lush underneath his seeking hands. “Haz, Haz, w-w-wait. You’re…’S g-g-gonna hurt.”

Snarling, his hips drive impulsively, insistently dragging over his burning,  _infuriatingly tight_ flesh. Nothing–Louis is so tense, clenching up as he cries out obscenely, beginning to cry viciously, lost to his orgasm. At the boys white-hot pleasure his head swims, and Harry curses, trying to get away before it’s too late, but stupidly the Omega’s legs tighten around his waist, heels digging into his back. “N-N-No. Don’t leave me. Stay. Stay. I need…need to f-f-feel,” Louis manages around the mewling, trembling,  _crying._

And Harry thinks he’s crying too, burying his face in the slope of his throat, sensation rising above his thoughts even as the guilt holds him rigid, even as his cock throbs, jerking on its own accord, demanding more. “I’m sorry,” he breathes raggedly into his through, mouthing at his slender throat, marking with his mouth, tongue, teeth. “I’m so sorry. I almost…I hurt you…I…” Sickened, Harry wants to fucking  _run,_ to never face this again, but his Alpha is always stronger when it comes to Louis, and he’s  _stuck._

“Shh,” the Omega coos seconds-too-late, stroking his damp curls, like  _he’s_ the one that needs comforting. “You didn’t hurt me, baby. Not really. I wanted that. I  _want that now._ But ‘m r-r-really not ready…” the apologetic tone is like ice raining down on his guilt.

A frantic sound escapes him as his eyes sting, arms clutching the boy, scared of scaring  _him._ “I know you’re not. I’m not either. But you…I…I can’t seem to  _stop_ with you.”  _Don’t hate me for being your puppet when you’re the puppeteer._

But he’s in  _flames,_ high on this– _him._  Flashing his canines, the Alpha runs them along the sensitive skin of his throat, in search of his bonding skin. “You want more?”

“Always,” reedy, impossible to deny as his hands run up his biceps, onto his shoulders, “Always want more.”

And  _fuck_ he’s  _greedy_ when it comes to Louis,  _selfish,_ rocking his hips again, but gently enough that his cock only rubs against his slick, drippy hole. Just the feeling against his cock, the  _sensation,_ hot, wet,  _his,_ has the heat coils thickly in his abdomen, pressure starting in his balls, forceful, stronger than his mind. Mewling, the Omega yanks insistently on his hair until Harry lifts his face, and takes his parted lips, hungry and demanding against soft and docile tongue, teeth sinking into his plush bottom lip. Groaning, the Alpha whispers, “You’re so beautiful. Let me have you.”

Underneath him the boy tenses, but pleasure lashes at him, and Louis clings. “Yes.”

“I don’t want anybody else but you,” the Alpha growls as his knot forms. “Not anybody else. Never anybody else but you…” Bracing one hand beside his face, the other sneaks between their bodies to Louis’s belly, and his hand wraps around the Omegas pulsing hot cock, tightly working him in time with his hips. The tease  _burns_ him as Louis makes loud, beautiful noises, and his strokes quicken against his cock, coaxing more noises, cock pulsing, spilling onto Harry’s tight fist, body unusually still as Harry growls again, “ _Mine._ ” With the word his knot swells and pops as his hips still, the head of his cock tingling hotly, pressed tight to Louis’s little hole. The pleasure wrecks through him, knot streaming come from his cock to where it needs to be.

Shivering, whining, urging him on, then boy slumps into the mattress, hips hiked even so as Harry comes. Taking, the Omega is so stunning, skin gleaming with sweat, fringe a mussed mess, blind eyes shut, mouth red and swollen, so docile with his tummy slick with come dribbling from his cock even now.

Emotion thickens in his throat, behind his blurring eyes as the Alpha whispers weakly, “Baby. Kitten, I can’t stop. I can’t…but…”

“’S okay, Hazza,” Louis says breathily, so submissive that Harry wants to curl over him, protect him from everything and everyone one, including himself. And yet his damned body doesn’t agree, hips shallowly thrust and thrust, cock sliding over his hole, so wet and warm with slick and come as he leans down again, latching onto his collarbone, listening to him mewl softly, hips twitching in response.

“Never enough for you, is it, lovely?” he asks, frustrated, lowering to close his teeth around the perked bud of his nipple as hands twist painfully in his hair. Breathing rough, laboured, the Alpha’s waves fan over his forehead, and his cock doesn’t have any intentions of quitting, it’s the longest orgasm by far, and  _fuck it’s deserved because he’s not touching again after this._ Little chest rising and falling frantically, the Alpha can feel his cock against his butterfly, and laughs huskily, “First time I get you naked…and I lose it.”

The miniature legs clasped around his waist tighten as Louis’s hips hike, gyrating, cock wet between them, spreading come. “Just one more time,” he breathes, pleading frantically, “Before you decide you’re never goin’ to touch me again or summat insane like that. ‘Cause I know you, and I know you’re losing your mind right now. I am a bit too…Feels…you know.” Raising his face again, the Alpha looks at him, wondering where this beautiful, intuitive creature came from, this beautiful creature who’s giving  _him_ what he’d never deserve, who has  _him_ between his legs, against his hole. Ready to take it with his cock caught between them, and his head tilted backwards into the mattress, and his mouth slightly parted, arms holding, nails raking over his shoulders, down his biceps, holding onto his forearms.

And  _fuck_ he’s going to take while he  _can,_ because he’s fucked up, and he’s lost his mind.

Knot thick, fat, meant to fill the boy up, but not quite fulfilling (ironic really) it’s purpose, Harry doesn’t mind as the sensation is so damned  _hot_ as he takes his hips back, then flexes forward, the head of his cock catching the rim of his tight, little hole, groaning when Louis moans so loud it disrupts the electric current around them. “’S like you’re making love t-t-to me…”

“Not nearly enough,” he says, voice uneven and  _ruined,_ as the bed frame meets the wall again, and Louis shudders, “Baby, be…careful…Gonna…w-w-ake… _Oh, please.”_

“’M bein’ careful,” the Alpha growls, rocking again, clutching his will, wondering why his hole won’t give even a bit. Then again, his mind  _refuses_ to lose all control of his body, and his hips aren’t rough, his cock brushing, gliding against his arse, simply  _there._ “With your body. Can’t be careful with anything else at the mo’.”  _Don’t care to._ Making another soft, needy sound the Omega reaches between them, and wraps his hand where he craves it most, and bows beautifully. The white-hot ecstasy sears through his veins, partly Louis’s, mostly  _his_ as Louis pleads frantically, “Make love to me. Make it happen. Please, Alpha.”

Forcing his eyes shut, the Alpha growls low in his throat, gripping his hips to stop that, but to give him  _something._ “You don’t need to stay…in control.” In this moment, Harry wants to believe it’s true, but it’s  _not,_ and that  _ruins him._

A sound so much like a sob starts up in his throat as Harry shoves his body away, blindly grappling with the sheets, then wiping the material between his cheeks, trying to make it like this didn’t happen, like his control hadn’t wavered, like he didn’t almost destroy what he’s worked so hard to attain. Dimly, he can hear Louis whisper brokenly, nails biting into his arm, “N-No. No, Haz,  _stop it._  I want it there.”

“Louis,” is the sound that rips from his throat, splaying one hand at his side when he tries to roll away, to keep the fuckin’ come between his arse. “Louis. Stop. Let me make this better.”

“It’s already  _better!_ ” he sounds anxious, an anxiety that Harry mirrors, chest heaving as he struggles to breathe, a cold sweat breaking over his skin as the need to see what he’d done to his sweet little virgin hole, the masochistic need to see how he’d  _hurt him,_ so Harry can hurt the same, infests his mind.

“It’s not,” Harry snarls, willing the boy to understand, because right now Harry  _despises himself more than ever._ “It’s not. It’s not. Christ,”  _I fucked up. I almost fucked you. I fucked myself. Truly screwed my mental state over._

With a choked, concerned noise, Louis grabs his trembling hands, taking them away from his body despite the wild shake of Harry’s head, then sitting up to carefully curl in his lap, planting forgiving kisses up his throat to his jaw. “It’s okay, calm down, hush, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt me. You made it better. You always do.”  _What bullshit._

With stinging eyes, the Alpha buries his face in Louis’s throat, inhaling the lovely, consoling fragrance, whispering until his voice gives out, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry.”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“I’m…sorry.”  
“So…sorry.”

_More sorry than my voice can tell._

♥

            “You did  _what?!”_ two days follow before Niall seeks him out, demanding and furious and inescapable. Pathetic, Louis is curled up in his wardrobe, attempting to hide with Harry’s clothing clutched to his chest; the scent caught in the fabric gives his lungs the will to continue to function. “And  _he did what?!_ That is it! I am so  _done!_ I am going to slit his bloody throat, then take his dick to make it your personal dildo!”

Under different circumstances that would be humorous, but now his mouth quivers, and he’s brimming with shame and humiliation, and mostly self-hatred. “He was… _crying,_ Ni! Not tears, but  _dry sobs!”_ he hisses in misery. “And he hasn’t talked to me in two days. Didn’t even say  _goodbye!_ Just woke up and he was gone. And when– _if_ he comes back he’s not going to touch me again.”

“Oh, babe,” the Irish lad breathes, plopping down beside him, rubbing his shoulder. The touch of another Omega soothes him no more than the clothing he’s clinging to.

“’S all my fault. I shouldn’t have p-p-pressed it. I like…I took advantage of him.”

Like its  _funny,_ Niall laughs, but the sound is soft, understanding. “Oh, darlin’, it’s not your fault you’re hormonal. I’m sure he’s not upset with  _you._ Probably more himself. I will never understand them, really. But I think he only needs some space.”

Wretched sobs start in his chest as the miserable tears ooze past his stupid, useless eyes. “I d-d-don’t want space!”

“Okay! Okay!” Niall tries to placate over his misery. “No space! I’m sure he isn’t having the best time right now either, Louis. Just…relax. Get ahold of yourself! Jesus I was never this  _bad!_ ”

All the terror rushes straight to his mouth, “He’s probably making love to all those Omegas because he won’t m-m-make love to me! Probably givin’ them what he won’t–,” a harsh, unexpected slap meets the left side of his cheek, stunning him into silence. “You are being entirely ridiculous,” the Irish boy states sternly, surprising him enough that he  _remains_ silent. “This is absolute idiocy. You two need to getcha shit together because I am  _sick_ and  _tired_ of this whole  _love me hate me leave stay have take_ shit. It’s exhausting to  _me,_ and it ain’t my relationship. And  _you_ are the one mainly causing it! You are asking for too much too soon! You’re being needy, Louis. I get it. I do, babe. But Harry doesn’t do this shit because he doesn’t want you. You said it  _yourself._ He was sobbing. He was a  _mess._ His cock was all over your arse. And he  _knotted_ from  _that._ That means more than whatever twisted scenario you’ve purged up in your mind. You need to…Fucking  _hell_ Louis when did this happen? When did you become so... _messed up?_  I thought… _fuck I really thought you’d escaped that mess with your–,”_

“Don’t!” Louis hisses, outraged and humiliated and  _weak._ “Don’t you  _dare_ bring it up.”

“Shut up,” the Irish boy blows him away, like he’s  _nothing,_ but doesn’t bring  _him_ up still. “I thought that you weren’t damaged by what happened. And I was so damned wrong. I wish…I wish I had known.”

Curling small, small, small, Louis cries, trembling at the words, realising somewhere in his mind and heart that Niall– _careless, brutally honest Niall–_ is  _right._  Because it  _is_ exhausting, it is Louis’s fault, and he  _is_ asking too much of the Alpha he loves so much. God, he’s being so needy because he needs to hold Harry close to make sure he doesn’t  _stray_. And Harry  _does want him–_ why else would he  _stick around, stick his erection around?_

And… _he had screwed Louis up._ What Louis doesn’t actually know– _how badly is the damage? Irreparable? Can he even be better? Should he even try?_

 _Of course we can,_ his Omega is so… _quiet_ now, so speechless. It  _hurts_ to have limited his other half so horribly. But his Omega had  _healed, forgiven, left it behind. Why couldn’t he?_

 _Because I’m not naive,_ Louis thinks.  _Or am I?_

Lost, confused, desperate, Louis does what he hasn’t seriously done since back  _then._ Keying into his Omega, the boy begs mentally,  _please, I’m so sorry....help me be better…help me help us._

Niall continues obliviously, “Don’t fuckin’ hide, either. You’re going to listen and  _stop_ being an emotional little twat.” Though he wants to drown him out, Louis doesn’t, because Niall is serious only when he  _has to be,_ and that’s when things have hit the breaking point. “Every Alpha has their breaking point, Louis. Especially when they’ve been clutching their control to their damned chests and then they suddenly have this beautiful Omega,” he strokes Louis’s hair, and Louis almost  _purrs_ under the comfort, “that breaking point– _bam._ Breached. Just like that. H might be damned proper at control, but he is  _not_ a machine, and I’m offended that you seem to  _think so._ Even more so that he  _continues to act like this._ And that means he needs to recharge.”

“To recharge?” Louis whispers, unable to help the hope that surges through his vessels and capillaries, straight to his heart.

“Yeah. Gain all that control back.”

“I don’t  _like that control!”_ Louis growls.

“Well too damned  _bad,_ because he  _cares about you more than he cares about himself._ It’s not about your body. It’s about  _you,_ who you  _are._ And if you can’t realise that then it’s never going to work and he should leave your arse right now.”

At the words little, hurt pieces of him shatter into shards, the impact causing them to become particles of fiber glass instead. Hot, ugly tears slide down his blood drained cheeks as Louis whispers, “I don’t know how to…”

“Because you’re not  _trying!_ ” Niall snaps, under the frustration in the Irish lad’s voice Louis flinches. But in the same instant footsteps approach, and then he’s being pulled into a warm, comforting embrace. The achingly familiar cologne causes him to cry  _harder,_ burrowing in Liam’s arms, his childhood protector, “Liam.”

“Ni, you’re being too harsh,” the Alpha reasons with Niall, then soothes a hand down Louis’s spine as the boy hyperventilates. “Oh, Lou, I don’t think I’ve seen you cry this much since…”

“Don’t. Please.”

“I don’t know what to do,” the Alpha says. “I don’t know how to help. Back then…I knew what to do…but now…this isn’t  _him,_ Louis, this isn’t your–,”

At the constant reminder Louis bursts into fresh peals of heaving sobs, trying to shake the memories creeping up on him, to  _breathe._ “Now look what you’ve done!” an outraged Irish hiss.

“I w-w-want Harry,” the Omega cries pathetically, even clinging to Liam. “Harry.” The name spirals telltale sadness over him, and Louis tries to ignore the differences in the Alpha he’s clutching and the one he  _needs._ Being rocked doesn’t help like it did all those years ago, and Liam seems to realise this as over the shrieking sounds of his distress, he catches the Alpha say helplessly, “Get H. He’s not going to calm down unless…”

An agonizing amount of time passes before he’s being shifted, handed over, to who?  _Him? No. No._ When he tries to cling to Liam, terrified and unable to grasp what’s going on, that familiar, melting voice breathes sadly, “’S okay, kitten. I’ve got you. Let go. Come to me.” Just a touch on the side, Louis feels like passing out with relief, and he wishes he could tell Harry he’s freaking out, poisoned with  _love,_ with  _the past and present damage._

With no resistance, Louis lets the Alpha have him. For now, like this, he surrenders to the Alpha, clutching him. Strong, secure, Harry surrounds him with his frame until Louis is tiny, unseen, wrapped in him. Knowing that his Alpha is here, to protect them, his Omega attempts to have control, and Louis doesn’t fight this either, relaxing in his mental state as the need heightens.

“A-A-Alpha,” is what he hears the childish soft Omega purr. “Alpha. My Alpha.”

“Yes,” is what Harry responds, and the reassurance causes his insides to melt and come undone.

“I love my Alpha,” the Omega claims sincerely. “Does Alpha believe me yet?”

“Alpha is trying,” Harry’s voice is rough,  _miserable_ even and Louis feels it on elemental levels.

A frown tugs at his mouth as the Omega lifts his face, having no problem with revealing his eyes, pouting. “Why doesn’t Alpha believe me?”

“Alpha believes  _you,_ Omega,” his Alpha reassures–that hurts, but at least it’s  _something._ “Alpha doesn’t believe  _Louis._  My Louis.” Hearing this,  _anger_ tears his insides, a tsunami overcoming its victim, but the Omega continues easily, in complete agreement– _traitor,_ “I am trying to make us both mean it. Completely. With all of me, and most of Louis.”

“But he’s damned stubborn, our Louis is,” Harry notes, and understanding cascades as the Omega’s face falls, and tears gather in his eyes. Again, Louis wishes the Omega would  _hide this,_ but he  _wants_ Harry to comfort him, isn’t uncomfortable expressing his hurt. When the Omega doesn’t reply, light, careful fingertips stroke his face, and he purrs so relieved, leaning into it, soothed in seconds. “Why do you love me so much, Omega?”

A frown toys with the Omega’s mouth again. “Because my Alpha takes care of  _me._ And Alpha won’t hurt me. Only make me  _happy_ and  _protected_ and  _safe._  Only caring for me. Always will.”

“Always true,” the Alpha agrees, mouth brushing his forehead as the Omega melts, lashes falling shut. “Wanna know a secret? But you have to keep it.”

Excited, the Omega nods, and Louis  _adores_ him for wanting to know so much and not caring about seeming desperate. Loves this side of himself for making  _Louis feel loved so much._ As confusing as it is, the other half is separate, but connected. They  _are one,_ but different dimensions of Louis. Dimensions he’s never  _dared_ discover…until recently.

“I am going to make sure Louis gives into me. I will be your eyes. I will be your vision. And I won’t  _ever guide you wrong.”_

Relieved, in love, the Omega smiles, whispers, “Love my Alpha. Make sure my Alpha loves us, too, though. Gives into us.” Just like that the dimensional persona returns to his mental place, and Louis blinks rapidly, blurting, “Haz, I would  _really love to be taken on a date. Now.”_

“Such short timing,” the Alpha says, but there’s such relief in his voice, like he’s been  _waiting for him to want more than physical touch._

“Nowhere special. Just somewhere. Somewhere we can just…be.”

♥

            “Feels like forever,” Louis whispers reminiscently as the Alpha helps him to his feet. Whirlwinds of emotion soar through him as the high grass, the wilted flowers whisper against his ankles, droplets from the drizzle cascading around them.

“Why?” he asks as the Alpha guides him through the meadow, both tripping up on the slushy, melted snow, and the trapped mesh of foliage and life beneath it.

“Thought we could…reconnect or something. Just be. Here.” The infinite tenderness in his throaty, unsteady voice brings more moisture to Louis’s eyes as he squeezes his hand, breathing unsteadily, “Sap.”

Beside him, the Alpha shifts–shrugging, he figures. “Maybe we can remember who we are, who we were…at the start. Who we are now.”

Louis halts, stumbling only a bit when Harry continues, though the Alpha seems to realise seconds in that he’s refusing to move. “You’re a coward when it comes to love,” the words escape him mouth without permission, and the air freezes in his chest when the Alphas intense gaze finds him. “I am, aren’t I?” there’s a warm touch of amusement to the question that causes Louis’s breath to hitch.

“But that’s okay,” the Omega says, lashes becoming wet with the drizzle…or tears, but it’s  _something._ Sweet heart-achingly beautiful memories embrace him when Harry shifts again, then brings a flower–where did he  _get that?_ It must be too cold for–to flatten it between their palms. “What colour?” is what Louis asks uselessly.

“Pink,” the Alpha informs, and there’s an oddly placed sheepish note to his voice. “I thought…Well, I do things wrong, most of the time, but I thought that maybe I could give you  _pink,_ even if you can’t see it…Thought that the pink  _I give,_ might replace…Next time you think pink…you could think of me instead.”

“I always think of you,” his voice is almost soundless, lost to the roaring drafts.

Cursing under his breath, Harry corrects, “Well not only me, then. Just happy times. Good things. Flowers are nice, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Louis allows, smiling shyly, “I love flowers.”

“And pink makeovers.”

“And pink stockings,” the Omega reminds as warmth creeps high on his cheeks despite the weather.

“Yes, that was rather nice, wasn’t it?”

At the conversational tone, Louis giggles. “You sound like we’re making pointless  _how’s-the-weather-down-there_ small talk.”

“Well we know how the weather is,” the Alpha sounds mischievous and young and Louis  _loves_ when he shows his age. “We don’t know–,” interrupting them some indie song starts up, and Harry sighs, taking one hand back to fish the source of the sound from wherever it is (back pocket?) and answer, “Father.” The curt, dispassionate tone is an icy breeze on Louis’s skin,  _worse_ than the chill of winter, seeping through his skin, straight to his bones, turning the marrow to icy slush.

Over the line Louis manages to catch another deeply accented, intimidating voice, though the words are indistinct, and with every one Harry tenses until, cuttingly in dismissal, “I’ll get there when I get there.”

“You have to go?” the mere breath is  _sad,_ and Louis despises his dependency on Harry. But it doesn’t change anything even so.

“Doesn’t matter. I can worry about it some other time.”

“No,” the Omega forces the denial, childishly crossing his fingers behind his back when he continues, “You need to go, you  _go,_ okay? I’m always here. You don’t need to…be with me twenty-four-seven.”

“How you acted today proves otherwise,” the Alpha whispers knowingly.

Louis swallows, lowering his telling eyes, turning his face. “I’m so sorry. I know I’m clingy. I know you’re probably feeling so suffocated–,”

“I am  _never_ suffocated by you,” the Alpha claims so fiercely, both hands splaying on both of his hips over his trousers, tugging so Louis is close, and his newly opened eyes must be swimming with all the love twining through him; a nest of butterflies has taken residency in his tummy, and whenever Harry says those words he says they stir, and send warring darts of panic and excitement that cause him to lift his trembling hands, curling his fingers at Harry’s ticking jaw. “Never ever ever ever…”

Laughing breathlessly, Louis seconds, “Neva eva…”

“Nope. Not by my kitten. Not by my friend till the end.”

All the warmth from his heart lances through his veins as Louis smiles softly, “LouisandHarry. You and me.”

“You are  _so_ a drop everything kinda thing.”

Welling with the emotion, Louis hides his face in Harry’s chest, shaking his head incredulously. “Am I?”

“Always have been. Always will be.” These words send shivers dancing down his spine as his heart trips up from the lack of oxygenated blood…or emotion, he can’t tell.

“What do you fancy about me, Haz?” he wonders quietly.  

“Everything…” the Alpha whispers sincerely enough that Louis wants to believe him–his Omega certainly does. “There isn’t  _anything_ I can seem to not fancy. Maybe I’m not all that fond of a particular for like one second…but then I find a reason to find it all the more adorning. Like this…morbid fascination thinks every part of you is beautiful. I always want to know what’s going on in that mind. What do you see with those hands? What do you hear in voices? What are you truly afraid of and why? Where did those fears stem from, or are they simply–?”

“Whoa,” Louis interrupts, dazed, but determined. “Baby, slow down. I know there is something that bothers you. And I won’t answer one of those questions until I find out what it is.” Suddenly it’s very important to  _know,_ so he can try to fix whatever it may be.

Against him the Alpha stiffens, and Louis  _knows_ without a doubt there  _is something._ At the answering silence recognisable emotions rush forward–frustration, hurt, need. In this rush, Louis shoves at his broad shoulders, hissing, “Just tell me!”  _Let me make it better._

A heartbeat passes, then one, faint whisper reaches his sensitive hearing, “Your vision.” A sliver of panic claws its way through him as the Alpha holds him tight against him again. As Louis’s fingers dig into Harry’s coat-protected shoulders, he desperately tries to find some…surprise…but there isn’t any, he’s been unconsciously expecting this. Dread pours over him, locking up his muscles even as he tries to veil it because there is no reason for him to be upset, he’s known this would hurt the relationship, known it would eventually leave them in ruins. “Let me explain.”

Louis swallows thickly, shakes his head. Whispers, “I already understand…”

“No, I don’t think you actually do,” Harry murmurs, the intoxicating scent of evergreen and mint thickens around them,  _scenting_ so forcefully that it stuns his senses long enough for Louis to give the opportunity Harry wants, “See, it bothers me because it bothers  _you._ It bothers me for the obvious reason that you’re so hurt over it. And I won’t  _ever_ say you shouldn’t be…because I am not  _you_ and I couldn’t imagine how it must be…but I wish you would understand and  _accept_ that you’re so much better than any Omega even without vision. Vision doesn’t define Louis. You are so… _perfect,_ kitten. And maybe you’re perfect  _because_ you can’t see…but you see everything in an entirely beautiful, complex way.”

Disbelieving, Louis begins to giggle. “Why do you always make me feel…” with a sharp breath, he realises and finishes, “perfect.”

“I hate it when you’re sad,” like it makes  _him sad._ “I could feel how sad you’ve been these past two days. It killed me.”

Guilt whips through him with barb-tipped lashes. “I’m always sad without you,” he admits selfishly. “I feel…empty. And cold. I don’t like Louis without Harry. It makes me sad.”

“I don’t like Louis without Harry, either,” the Alpha laughs throatily, the emotion in the sound causing Louis to soften. “I screwed up. I was scared. I always feel so scared where you’re concerned. I can’t hurt you. I can’t. Mentally that would…Just can’t make the wrong moves. So I try to move slow…because we both need slow, don’t we?”

“I want to say no,” Louis whispers, cheeks  _burning._ “But I can’t. Because it’s true. But I don’t want it to be.”

“’Cause you want this,” the Alpha whispers curiously, lowering one hand to the back of his thigh, kneading his flesh until a soft, pleased purr escapes his throat, “Yes.”

“I can’t,” he sounds pained, but his hand stays, and right now the Omega wishes it  _wouldn’t,_ “I can’t. Not again. I’m sorry.”

Defeated, Louis asks shakily, “Why not?”

“I thought I could handle it. But the other night…I overestimated myself. And I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry about the entire thing and what it means for us now. But we’re here. And I can’t take it back though I wish I could.”

Foolish mortification comes over him viciously–he doesn’t want us, Louis thinks, equally as foolish, he didn’t like what we did…now he doesn’t want at all. “You didn’t like…” he trails in a small voice, to be sure, tired of listening to himself because he’s  _wrong so much lately._

Like its absurd, the Alpha laughs, “Louis.” When he realises Louis is truly afraid and upset, his voice softens to a caress, “Kitten…no. I only…I…”

Raising his face, Louis feels the chill numb his cheeks as he moistens his trembling bottom lip, more tears gathering in his eyes. “Christ,” a hand grips his jaw, softer than he’d expected. The air hitches in his throat, pulse thrumming, mouth parting in response to the frustration in his voice as his mouth dips, and it’s much too soft for the tone. So slow that the memories drift over him until he’s shivering, and the velvety, supple kiss deepens. Unable to breathe, his head swims as Harry’s tongue moves against his, and it’s like he wants to capture his very essence with this simple kiss…And Louis is more than willing to give right now.

“Mine,” he breathes, darkly possessive as Louis grips the lapels of his coat to stay steady. “Mine. Forever mine.”

“And ever and ever,” Louis responds breathlessly, desperately clinging to the promise, and for once, praying that as their gazes bore, his too dim, too blind, Harry’s too bright, too intense (he can feel it everywhere) they hold the same, everlasting connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. I know, I'm sorry, it's a bit shit.  
> .xx


	24. Part Twenty Four;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovelies. So this one is quite lengthy and detailed, but not without reason. I feel this chapter is them crossing the bridge toward progress, and it’s about time, yeah? :D Also an emotion chapter! I know I know, sorry! So I strongly suggest that if you get overwhelmed easily you take breaks and pauses! It’s always here!:) Also, updated that tags a bit! Please read them before you start!:) 
> 
> Anyway, I’ll let you guys get to the chapter! Thank you all so so much again! All the love (heehee)
> 
> Also, thanks to my awesome Beta, [bestbeta!](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) :) and thanks to my brilliant bestie, Harley thisgirlbae :* who helped out so much during this chapter! Couldn’t do it without you guys! :* And I can’t forget my friend Alyssa who’s awesome beyond belief. 
> 
> .xx

 

            School creeps up on them, and its two days before the last day of winter break that somehow everyone ends up in Harry’s manor–not that he’d invited them, but apparently friends don’t require invitations. Or so says Niall. But honestly the Alpha doesn’t believe Niall Horan as he’s learnt the little shit doesn’t grasp relationships or social customs like the rest of society (which makes sense–plants an indebted affection for the Irish lad, Louis’s best mate, the one who must have made it so much _better_ for his blind Omega growing up around a utopian–more dystopian than anything else in his mind– austere society).

One way or another, the lot of them–Niall _snooping–_ come across the bowling alley located in the south entry. Up until now the Alpha’s only been here once or twice, it’s never held much of an attraction to him as Harry certainly doesn’t fancy bowling and neither does Zayn or his Father. Its pointless, neglected existence hadn’t bothered anyone–except Louis and Niall, who are outraged by its lack thereof use, except Josh who’s ecstatic in seconds. Grouping them into teams, the Alpha is pleased to have Louis and Niall on his–well _Niall’s_ –team, meanwhile the other Alpha is paired with Liam and Zayn.

Just like that Niall and Josh, powercouple of the month, force their teammates (some leadership skills) into ridiculous slip resistant shoes (God knows when they’d found them, and what evil force had _allowed_ it). Music starts up in the background–Niall’s iPhone plugged into the backbooth linked to the concealed speakers surrounding the entire structure–Michael Bublé going on about not having met someone yet or something. All the while, the Alpha watches, amused, while Louis boasts to Liam and Zayn about having Niall on _his_ team–sassy, competitive little thing, Louis is.

Grinning, completely (a bit creepy, he’ll admit) engrossed by the to-be-mated couple’s dynamic, he doesn’t tear his gaze away as they fiddle with the controls to the lane–Niall mindlessly pressing any and every key his little fingers can touch, and Josh, exasperated, but seemingly used to this behaviour, and _endeared_ by it, trying to help his little monster the _correct, patient_ way. One, harsh jab at another button and the machine places the pins–Niall blows up with pride at having figured it out–if that’s what you’d call it, “HA! I TOLD YOU I HAD IT!”

As the lights dim, replaced with a neon glow, either side the lanes light up to make their edges visible, and the scoring panel has them type in their names. In the end, Harry is _‘Froggy’,_ Louis is _‘Tommo’_ and Niall is _‘Charmy’,_ while Josh is, _‘Devine’,_ Zayn is, _‘Devil’_ and Liam is _‘Dumb.’_ All thanks to Niall. But when Louis laughs, delighted at finding out their names, the Alpha can’t help being _charmed_ , ruffling Niall’s bleached hair.

When it’s _finally–_ an hour or so _later–_ ready, Niall declares the Omegas _first_ (which Devine laughs at, _“Omega Styles! How cute!”_ but before Harry can manage to get one word in Louis is threatening to toss a bowling ball at his head). Weirdly enough the two become engrossed in an entirely different direction, Louis listening to Josh talk animatedly about bowling regulations, rules, scoring, etcetera, and making jokes and smart remarks at every turn.

“Okay! Okay! Prepare for the killer moves!” Niall interrupts elatedly, smirking rather adorably as he wobbles around with a neon yellow bowling ball that’s far too heavy for him until Liam sighs in fond exasperation, trading Niall’s for the lighter of the bowling balls. Emotion flashes in the Irish boy’s blue eyes, and Liam seems to understand, talking low enough that Josh doesn’t seem to notice, “Nope. I still take care of you. My first baby Omega. Even though it’s not the same.”

Nodding only a bit, the Omega whispers, so intimate that Harry wonders how close the three had been exactly, “I know. You were my first baby Alpha. We’re always goin’ to be the three. Even after…” at that moment Josh looks over it’s like the episode hadn’t happened as Niall blows his _now baby Alpha_ a kiss, and glares at a knowing Liam, “Listen, shithead, I’m not some weakling. I can lift a bloody bowling ball.”

In that second, Harry catches Zayn’s, mirroring the momentarily questioning, _‘what the fuck?’_ before Zayn murmurs dryly, making his way over to Harry, “You’re skin and bones, Ni.” Seated beside him, the Omega toys with the rips on the thigh material of his trousers, and seated across from them now, Liam watches closely. Those vigilant _puppy-eyes_ are not comforting, but Zayn doesn’t seem to notice as their contact has always been unconscious comfort, but to be studied doesn’t sit well with Harry even so.

Placing one, sure hand over Zayn’s, the Alpha leans in and mutters, “Lover boy is turning various shades of red in his seat over there, Z. I’d quit feelin’ on my leg.”

Staring straight ahead, the Omega gives no indication that he’s heard except the tilt of his mouth. A smirk. Were Harry this Omegas Alpha his temper would have flared the instant he’d touched another Alpha like this, being mocked when it’s spiteful tends to slither under his skin rather quick. It’s not okay–but Omegas are naturally more provoking than any other faction, because they portray their strength through much more diverse means. Physically, perhaps a bit mentally, the Alpha faction bears the strength. Which hardly matters compared to the emotional capacity of the Omegas–they’re impossible to deter, impossible to contain without strict force (which psychology claims to be the reason for an Alphas _voice_ ). And that is why when Harry studied the psychological distinctions he’d realised that Omegas are not as the Council tends to represent them. They aren’t weak–how could they be?

No, the Omega faction is not weak, the Alpha faction is. Because the Omegas are entirely capable of leading stable lives (mostly, that _is_ very dependent on the situation, and the Omega, but statistic wise) without their mates, they use their intelligence, their appeal to their advantage, they get their way in mostly all aspects (the younger Council generation, those mated, have never come across as particularly bright, but damn do they make some brilliant– _proOmega–_ decisions, which Harry _knows_ is not their doing, least not all of it), and they’re the perfect manipulators despite their claims against the negative connotation (which can be argued–you cannot manipulation an Alpha that already worships the ground you walk on and wouldn’t _need_ to be manipulated because Omega says _jump,_ Alpha asks _how fucking high?_ ). Thing is, Alphas are too instinctive, too driven by physiological and biological needs, an authoritarian basis. Even as an Alpha, Harry grasps this–it’s _in him,_ black and white, never any grey.

Undeniably bonded his thoughts consist of protecting his Omega at any cost, of taking care of his Omega, of breeding his Omega. Of course by now he’s realising not everything is _inherent animalistic drive,_ there are emotions…Realising that he doesn’t want to protect Louis simply because he might one day bear his pups, but because Louis is an Omega with emotions that shed light within him _everywhere,_ because Louis gives him more than he could ever imagine wanting. Perhaps that’s in the difference in–, “Dear God, Harry, you’re staring into my soul!” Liam exclaims, until Harry blinks, focusing on the Alpha to realise his eyes _had_ been resting on him the entire time, though he hadn’t been looking. “Either you’re really feeling me or you’re thinking some hardcore bullshit right now.”

“All of the above,” he responds, grinning wickedly when the Alpha glares in disgust and Zayn laughs lowly, “Our Hazza’s little brain works overtime sometimes. Don’t mind him. I never do.”

“Yes, Li!” Louis chirps, snaking behind Liam with Josh’s hand on his shoulder as to keep him on track, and wrapping his arms around the Alpha’s shoulders. “Don’t fret; I’ll make sure he doesn’t act up.” Looking now, Harry tenses, the animal flares to life as his eyes sharpen so his glare becomes lethal. In this moment he doesn’t want Louis so close to another Alpha–not when he’s been scenting every atmosphere and person, giving the false impression that he _belongs_ to them, so close to his heat that it’s glaringly perceptible.  _Mine._ Impromptu a harsh growl escapes his throat, and sensitive as he is, Louis startles, flinching away from Liam. Josh looms as he scurries around the room, using his hands to touch the structures, (listening to Zayn’s tapping foot, no doubt) and the racks until he’s close enough that Harry reaches over, circles his slim waist to bring him into his lap where he curls up small.

With the proximity his floral fragrance intoxicates his senses. Steals his breath. Nearly steals his already disheveled sanity.  But he’s perfected his will this last week, recovered his control since that night, and leashes his Alpha without trying, leaning in to kiss the boy’s temple, breathing there, scenting him, enough that it’s almost like he’s been bonded. Not nearly close enough… “Mine,” he claims shrewdly. “Mine.”

Melting against him, the boy sighs, reaching up to forage his fingers in Harry’s tied back hair, loosening the bun.

“Please, don’t touch any Alphas like that again,” he persuades, careful to keep the timbre out of his voice–he refuses to take away Louis’s choice. “I can’t…’S too soon. If only for now, don’t let them scent you.”

Against him the boy softens impossibly. “Yes, Alpha.”

And he’s been acting like this constantly these few days, calling him Alpha in _that_ tone, submitting so willingly–despite his Alphas satisfaction _Harry_ doesn’t know how to feel about this. It’s like meeting Louis all over again, meeting his Omega, like those first few days when he’d curl up small, mostly in fear, but instinctively obedient all the same. Of course Harry’s been more than relieved to see those days over because Harry adores Louis’s flamboyancy, his rebellious streak, his smart, sweet mouth.

But nothing has changed, Louis is still Louis with _each of those traits…_ but the fine-line is becoming blurred with the impending heat, blurred between Louis’s Omega and Harry’s Alpha (animal). At this point, with Louis so close to peak, it’s difficult to remember that they _aren’t_ strictly Omega Louis and Alpha Harry, they’re as they’ve always been: LouisandHarry.

“Alrighty then!” Josh pipes up, dismissing the discomfort while testing bowling balls some stretches over. “We’ll let the rookies go first, eh, lads?”

“Prepare to be _roasted,_ ” Niall calls confidently, taking the bowling ball from Liam again. Louis twists in his hold, lifting one, seeking hand, “High five, Ni! Good luck high five, Charmy!” When the two do so, the Alpha holds up a hand, and grins when Niall high-fives him. “Full faith, Ireland,” he says, winking.

Despite rolling his eyes, Ireland is grinning goofily as he skips forward to the start of the lane. Seems luck actually _works,_ mostly in Niall’s case, as the Irish boy manages strike after strike. Contrary to the Irish boy’s skill, when it’s Harry’s turn, the gutter is where his bowling ball ends up almost every time, but the two boys are naturally supportive and cheerful together, rooting him on, Louis bouncing on the balls of his feet, planting kisses on his cheeks each time with a little, “Good job, baby,” until Harry feels damned lucky all on his own.

Together Niall and Harry take their respective turns going up with Louis and helping him, and this doesn’t seem to bother his Omega much as he’s at ease in this environment, knowing none of them are judging him (because he’s damned perfect, of course). With Niall’s guidance, the bowling ball manages to knock nearly every pin over, and he achieves two strikes during both games, only with Niall’s help. With Harry the two become caught up in banter, and even toss the ball so it ends up in the next lane over until Niall moans, “Okay! Okay! I am taking it upon myself to be the one to side Louis! Styles, hit the benches!” Even so, Louis pouts enough that the Alpha ends up at his side, then behind him, guiding, more than Niall does. Which doesn’t work to their advantage, but oh well, Charmy to the rescue is fitting enough.

In the end, Ireland was _very right_ (a miracle) and they win all four rounds as Josh, though a very proper arm, cannot make up for Liam and Zayn’s even worse shortcomings. When he grumbles through the last game, Harry murmurs, grinning cheekily, “Sucks to suck.”

“Like you did so much,” Josh retorts, competitive enough that he’s taken offense (it’s amusing, honestly).

“Don’t talk shit to my teammate like that, Devine!” Niall snaps, standing in front of where Harry holds Louis around the waist. With a shit eating grin, Harry nods, and Louis giggles, “Yes, Joshua, leave the Omega-Dream-Team _be,_ won’t ya?”

“Dream-Team,” the other Alpha scoffs, then gathers Niall into his arms. Though the Irish boy shrieks and struggles it’s obvious he’s playing as he kisses the Alpha sloppily moments in, giggling happily, “Don’t be a sore loser now.”

“Sore,” the Alpha whispers so intimately that Harry’s gaze darts to Liam, wanting to catch his reaction–decide whether or not this will spark jealousy–though they only share an amused look. “So sore. Make me feel better, sweetness.”

Distracting him, Louis giggles, “Sweetness. That’s so _sweet,_ Hazza, baby.”

“Sweet. Sweet like suga.”

“My lips like suga,” the Omega laughs airily until Harry is gazing down at him thinking his eyes are the colour of the sky right before the day takes hold–the colour of daybreak. Staring now the Alpha wishes his heart would shut up shut up shut the fuck up. “No. Your lips are like flower petals.”

At this time Omega arches an artful brow. “Yours are like coarse sandpaper.”

Barking out laughter the Alpha nuzzles his throat, breathing between chuckles, “That’s not what you said last night.”

Against his mouth the Omega’s skin is soft, so _new_ even now. “You’re right. I think it was more along the lines of flaky fish scales.”

Amused, the Alpha swallows more snickers to feign hurt, “Ouch!”

“The shade!” Liam interjects, thoroughly pleased by the looks of that fond grin aimed at an oblivious Louis. “So shady, my petal is,” Harry agrees.

“Petal?”

“Petal lips,” Harry breathes, lifting his hand to trace the curve of his thin bottom lip with his pinky finger.

“Alright fish lips.”

“Frog lips!” Niall corrects helpfully.

Louis twists around towards his voice. “Of course, Ni! How could I forget? Silly me.”

“You’re all ridiculous,” Zayn mutters, and the look of boredom makes Harry frown, but then the other smiles softly, shrugging a bit before going back to scrolling on his phone. Liam sides him, and the Alpha figures they’re alright as his Omega regains his attention, tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck, “Another game! Another game!”

“Dibs on Niall!” Josh claims.

Louis laughs at the absurdity. “Yeah, right! Ni is with the Dream-Team all the way, yeah, Ni?”

“Yeah, Lou!” the Irish boy seconds, beaming so brilliantly the light might even touch Harry’s heart like Louis’s darkness does. But only a bit.

♥

            Hours pass before the sixth game ends with Niall hooting and crowing proudly, “In your fucking _faces!_ FUCKING DREAM-TEAM!”

Louis laughs happily, hopping up and down under Niall’s infectious excitement. When he’s managed to calm a bit, rubbing the salt in the losers’ wounds, the Irish boy coos, “Brilliant job, my darlings.” All the while Louis pets him, listening to the Omega purr under his attention, then grinning when the Irish boy tries to pet _him_ in response, shoving his hand away, “I’m not ya puppy, Niall Horan!”

“You’re right, H is.”

With his bottom lip poking out in a pout, Louis crosses his arms, “Haz is _my_ puppy _only._ Right, Harry?”

“I am my own puppy,” the Alpha declares distractedly, seemingly absorbed in conversation with Zayn. Louis simply listens to his _voice_ –deep, cascading, lulling, and– “So what’s the theme then?” Louis catches the question, smiling sneakily into his hand.

“Not traditional,” Josh mutters, irritation creeping into his tone–even five years later the Alpha is bitter over his lack thereof influence over their ceremony. Louis does not pity him, because Louis backs Niall up _all the way._ “Nope. Not at all,” Niall agrees gleefully, “But none of the Alphas are allowed to know.”

“Which I still do not understand,” Liam claims from beside Louis. Of course the Alphas wouldn’t, Louis thinks in fond exasperation, sighing low in his throat.

“Of course not,” Niall mirrors his thoughts. “I didn’t expect any of you to. Not with those pea-sized brains.”

At this the Omega giggles, lifting his fist in no specific direction. Seeming to understand, Niall daps him as Louis praises, “Funny.”

Sighing again, Louis straightens, “Let _me_ explain this in the simplest way possible. We, especially Niall, don’t need any Alphas controlling the ceremony. ‘S not for any of you. It’s for us, specifically Niall.”

“I beg to differ,” Josh scoffs.

“Actually, I think they’re right.” Of course it’s Harry who makes this claim, and of course it’s Harry who gives no further explanation to his agreement. But Louis’s learnt Harry’s thoughts stay with him, lurking, building until someone prods and presses, opening the floodgates.

“THANK YOU!” Niall exclaims before Louis can ask. “Hallelujah! You know, Styles, maybe your brain is a bit larger to fit that big head. Baseball sized.”

“Why?” Louis asks curiously, tilting his head to the right, fringe falling in his eyes. As the Alpha is across from him, the boy can’t make assumptions based on his body language, and this prods at him, urging him to find his way back to Harry’s side.

“Well, it makes sense,” Harry reasons with Liam and Josh. Louis listens attentively, observing the tone of his voice, waiting to find some double meaning to his words, “I mean, think about it. Alphas can easily…communicate their dominance as bonded Omegas aren’t difficult to pick out with the bonding mark. But bonded Alphas don’t have that disadvantage, if you will. There aren’t any physical traits to mark us as bonded. Hence, then Omegas naturally should be the ones to orchestrate _their_ ceremony as _they’re_ setting the terms to claiming _their_ Alpha, yeah. Their names on _their_ Alphas back. The Alphas mark on the Omegas throat. Fair-trade, but one is a must, the other is simply tradition.”

Louis blinks, wondering what to make of that, then, “So you’re saying because Omegas don’t have the biological or physical means to claim their Alphas, it’s their right…to claim their mates how they deem fit? Which has been carving their names into their backs since forever?”

“Yeah, exactly,” the Alpha murmurs, and absorbed with figuring out how Harry’s mind words, Louis forgets the others are even _here._

“Are you proOmega?” he asks quietly, realising all at once that he’s always treated Omegas like people, not objects. No matter how Alpha his Harry can be, and _is,_ he’s never outright disrespected an Omega. In fact he’s defended the faction more times than Louis can count–something he’s probably done all his life, because Harry isn’t one to change his morals easily, Louis understand this, because the Alpha is stubborn, even being fickle at times, once something is _there,_ it’s there to stay unless ripped free from the roots.

“Neither. Politics bore me.” The uncomfortable note to his voice tells Louis that there’s more to that statement. Softening, heart tripping up, Louis whispers, “You are, aren’t you?”

“No. Equality and balance is what I believe is _best._ My ideology, if you will. No equality, no balance, nothing to do with Omega or Alpha or Beta,” such an Alpha response…So, still Alpha, Louis reminds, simply _the perfect Alpha._

“You two are so _boring!_ ” Niall erupts, startling Louis, “We aren’t discussin’ whose equal and who isn’t, we are talking about _me!_ And _my ceremony!_ ”

Endeared, Louis smiles, and Harry responds dryly, “Not everything revolves around you, Ireland.”

“I beg to bloody differ!” his best mate screeches, offended.

“I still do not understand why the Alphas are left in the dark,” Liam says, effectively starting a whole new round of riots as everyone tries to explain, talking over each other and finishing each other’s sentences until Louis decides to let the others handle this one, standing and listening to Harry’s voice for guidance, “it’s not so very difficult, Liam. Jesus, it’s a _power, equality thing!_ ”

Sighing, Louis crawls into Harry’s lap, straddling him and brushing their noses. “Hi,” he breathes, settling on his thighs. “’M curious.”

“Mm,” Harry hums, hand gentling on his hips.

“Is your Father proOmega?” he asks hesitantly. Beneath him, as expected, the Alpha tenses, and the hands at his hips tighten to the point of pain until Louis winces, squirming, then the grip gives, thumbs tracing circles in apology.

“No,” he answers faintly. “No, he’s not. He’s proAlpha. What else would you expect?”

Louis hums, placing hands over the ones at his hips, and brushing their noses again, pleased that he’s still communicating. “Nothing less.”

“Yeah well.”

Intertwining their fingers, the Omega asks, “Why are you so against talking about this?”

“About what?” 

“You,” the boy breathes, kissing the bridge of his nose once, “What’s so wrong with wanting to know more about what’s made you who you are today?”

“Because,” the Alpha says simply, “It’s not pleasant.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Louis murmurs tightly, “What made me who I am wasn’t pleasant either, but I told you.”

“I could handle that,” Harry argues stupidly. “You can’t handle any more than–,”

Gripping his jaw, the Omega murmurs seriously, “Don’t decide anything for me. Practise what you preach, H. Communication. You said communication was necessary. I’m trying. You’re shutting down now. Why?”

“’Cause I’m a hypocrite?”

Louis smiles, then shakes his head, “Well that’s not what I fancy. And I’ll be quite put out with you if the tables turn and I have to start begging _you_ to open up.”

“Okay,” the Alpha croaks, so unsteady his Omega makes it so Louis strokes his features, visualizing and loving. “What would you like to know exactly?”

“First, I want you to answer me, are you proOmega?”

“I don’t know,” Harry mutters. “Honest, I share both political views. But mostly proOmega, yeah.”

Kissing the corner of his mouth, Louis hums. “Okay. Now, why don’t you share your Father’s political values? Most children do. I share my mums. So why not?”

“Des is brilliant,” he says matter-of-factly. “With mostly everything. But not that. Growing up heir to the Council means accepting their values. And their values are Alpha oriented. But…I can’t accept that Alphas are the strength of the race because there’s no practical reason to. Even the most brilliant Alphas fall to the feet of their Omegas…Except…my Father didn’t. And that might make him _extremely brilliant,_ but it doesn’t make him any stronger.”

Louis blinks, unable to understand, “What do you mean?”

“I dunno, Lou,” the Alpha mutters, frustrated. “My thoughts are fucked. Moral of the story is that I have no reason to believe Alphas should be the predominant order. Nor do I have enough reason to claim Omegas should be. But the Omega faction should not be tagged as weak as proAlpha politicians believe. Not in my mind.”

“But you’re–,” an Alpha _of_ Council, _and you shouldn’t say otherwise._

“I’m _Harry,_ ” the Alpha interrupts with finality, “And I am finished with this conversation.”

Louis starts to protest but Harry shifts so he’s on the seat and suddenly the Alpha is standing, claiming, “My turn,” and starting away. The conversation ceases, and Louis turns, bringing his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his knee and squeezing his eyes shut against the angry tears that have formed there as everyone scrambles to watch his Alpha’s moves. Josh is growling, “Wrong move! Wrong move!” trying to throw him off, Louis supposes, and Niall is cheerleading, “Go Froggy! Don’t fail us!”

Throughout this Liam comes to sit beside him, Louis recognising it’s him by the scent of his cologne. “Hey,” the Alpha says softly, stroking his arm, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Louis mumbles, raising his face to smile the best he can. “Just…frustrated.” _Lost._

“That makes me and you both,” Liam says, fingers trailing up his arm to stroke his cheek lovingly.

Louis grimaces, but softens under the familiar touch. “Why, of all the people, did we choose the two most private, closed-off ones?”

At this Liam chuckles, the comforting ability in the sound hasn’t changed since childhood as Louis smiles shyly, leaning into his contact. “’Cause we hate ourselves.” _Makes sense._

“We would have been perfect for each other,” the Omega blurts, hating the longing in his voice. Longing for the understanding, but not the Alpha himself. _We were never meant,_ his Omega hisses, disgusted by his idiocy.

When silence settles over the room, Louis is reminded of _why_ he shouldn’t have said that. The stares are felt intensely as his face heats, and Liam drops his hand like Louis’s a scalding iron as _Harry’s forceful stare finds them._ Alpha hearing, Louis thinks miserably, never good for anyone.

Nobody speaks–not even _Niall–_ as Harry stalks up to them, and Louis wants to recoil from the sheer force of his rage, repelling _everything and everyone._

“Mate, he didn’t,” Liam tries to save him, but this isn’t childhood, and Louis has to face the consequences of his actions and save _himself_ now. Growling at him so viciously, Liam stops, seeming to realise it’s only going to escalate the situation as Louis cringes, his Omega seething at him, wanting permission. Permission Louis cannot afford to give right now.

“Haz…” he tries in a small, pathetic voice.

“We’re going to step outside,” Harry claims, veiling his anger though it weaves through the atmosphere. Accepting his fate, Louis stands on shaky legs, hands tangling at his belly, head bowed in shame as the Alpha’s hand lands light over his lower back (like he can’t stand the contact). Even though he’s seething, it’s gentle, guiding him through doors until they must be in the foyer, but Louis doesn’t have the chance to try and tell because he’s being pressed against a wall–like this the Alpha towers over him, intimidating him, but comforting his Omega.

“It wasn’t meant like that,” Louis breathes when Harry says nothing, simply staring.

“Then how was it meant?”

Swallowing the apology on the tip of his tongue, Louis admits, “I don’t know. But not like that…I was just…”

“Just being honest? Perfect, huh? Fuck that, _kitten._ You know why he wouldn’t have been perfect for you?” the Alpha demands tightly, the temperature between them reaches blazing heights, swamping the boy, who’s been masking the desperation that comes with Harry’s limited sexual contact. “Do you, kitten?”

Unable to think or speak coherently, Louis shakes his head.

“Because,” the Alpha breathes, his arms snaking around Louis’s waist, bringing him close close close. So close. Need rushes through him as Harry’s breathing roughens in his ear, and his heart _races in anticipation_ when the Alpha’s hand takes his, dragging it past the belt of his trousers until it rests over the bulge of his erection in his trousers. Against his hand, the thick length twitches, and Louis squeezes impulsively as Harry continues, “he couldn’t give you this. Couldn’t make you scream like I do. Couldn’t make your Omega want it like I do.” And his voice is a thousand octaves too deep, mouth brushing the curve of his ear. Squeezing again, Louis fights the sound building in his throat as Harry’s hips rock forward into the touch. “Couldn’t get you wet like I do. You’re wet right now, aren’t you? It smells so fuckin’ lovely. You wouldn’t get wet for him, kitten. You wouldn’t.”

“I know,” Louis whispers; tongue loose with how he’s feeling. “I know I wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t give this to any other Omega. You wouldn’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” Harry agrees, and the break in his voice causes Louis to feel like the most important person in the world, “I’m so fuckin’ glad you’re realising this.”

“I know, Harry,” the Omega whispers, taking his hand back to twine it in his hair. “You don’t need to use sexual advances to…make me listen. You don’t have to do that. Because I’m talking now, okay? Tell me you understand that I’m working at it.”

“Promise me,” the Alpha whisper hoarsely, the desperation, the sadness in his voice causes Louis’s heart to _bleed_ in ways it shouldn’t, “Promise me we’re not going to have to start all over again the instant you have one bad thought.”

“I promise,” and Louis _means it,_ comforting him, “I promise I won’t stop trying. But it’s not going to change in an instant. I’m…I’m damaged, Harry. And I want to be helped, but I want to help _myself_ as much as I can, too. Sometimes…I’m going to say things I don’t mean. Sometimes I’m going to be a horrible person trying to protect myself. I’m going to be self-conscious, and needy, and a mess. And sometimes I’m going to want to let go. You’re going to want to let go. But _damn it_ I won’t stop trying.”

“That is _all I’ve been asking,_ ” Harry says intensely, “All I want. I’m… _fuck, fuck, Louis._ You…”

“I know I’m takin’ awhile,” Louis breathes shyly, wondering why he didn’t mean to try prior to this because the weight on his shoulders, in this blessed moment, doesn’t feel quite so unbearable, “’M sorry for how I’ve been acting, too. Hormones and all, not that I’m blaming it on them entirely, but. I’m like trying not to cry right now! ‘Cause you’re makin’ the emotional worse, prat!”

“You’re doing so well, kitten,” Harry breathes so proudly that his Omega purrs and dances and _sings,_ “Admitting the issue is the first step to healing and–”

Louis giggles, stretching on his tiptoes to kiss his jaw, “Yes, Dr. Styles, I’ve heard. And I’m admitting I’m not altogether up there. And I know I’m a mess, acting crazy. I dunno why you’re not runnin’ for the hills.”

With an uneven, rough laugh, the Alpha grabs him around the waist, and it’s like every film out there, he’s being rushing around in circles, shrieking and being loved so well that tears mist in his blind eyes. “Never. ‘M not altogether up there, either, kitten, but I don’t care. Honest, I don’t. All I want…All I want is for you to _love yourself,_ because you deserved to be loved by yourself, too, Louis.”

Just like that the mist becomes scalding tears, streaking down his face as Louis curls his fingers in the Alpha’s hair, clinging to his lifeboat, whispering into his throat, “I want to. I really want to love me, too, Haz. But I shouldn’t have to _try_ to love me, should I?”

“No,” the Alpha whispers, running one soothing hand down the curve of his spine. “You shouldn’t. But that’s where we are now, lovely. Don’t blame this on _you._ You didn’t ask to be…wronged so sickeningly. You didn’t ask for _any of this.”_

“I didn’t,” Louis breathes through hitching, broken breaths. “I didn’t…But I can’t _help_ it, can’t help thinking I did something to deserve it. I’m n-not like you, Hazza, I don’t have all these thoughts from all d-d-d-ifferent directions. I have the _same thoughts over and over and over again._ Same h-h-horrible thoughts.” 

“That’s what we need to work on, Louis,” the Alpha breathes, “You need to _talk_ about these thoughts. But not with me.”

“W-W-Why not?”

“Because…I won’t be able to help, I won’t be able to stay calm. I don’t know how to handle…It can’t be me. You need to talk to someone else, kitten. Someone…professional.” _The one source of help I can’t bring myself to take…Couldn’t then, can’t now…but…maybe…later._

Louis tenses, then whispers, horrified, chills running through him at the mere thought, “No. Not…No. Right now, _no,_ I can’t do that. Right now is _my time to help myself._ ”

“Okay,” the Alpha murmurs, soothing a hand down his spine once again, then “Okay, not right now. Whenever you’re ready, Louis. Only when you’re ready. We can wait until then.”

Melting, soothed, Louis plants salty kisses up his throat. “You’re always so patient with me. I love you so much.”

“You’re my everything. I would do anything to make it so that you’re _always_ happy.”

“Anything?” the Omega whispers tentatively, curling one thick lock of Harry’s waves in his finger, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Anything,” the Alpha repeats without missing a beat, causing Louis’s heart to miss one instead.

“Cuddles,” Louis breathes, smiling wickedly. “Let’s ditch them, pretend like we’re doing the sex, and then make our escape.

“You’re diabolical,” Harry says, and the Omega proceeds to moan, the high, pitchy sounds that only his Alpha have brought to his lips, even now.

♥

            In the bowling alley, Liam leans against the wall nearest the exit, tension building in his shoulders as instinct demands he march outside and make sure Louis is okay–because Harry _honestly_ hadn’t looked sane as Council Alpha’s are when they’d left, he’d looked…well, murderously insane, really, and with how Louis has been acting what Alpha wouldn’t be? And an Alpha like Harry is _bound_ to snap. Even so, rationally, Liam _knows_ that Louis is _fine…_ if the sexual noises floating past the thick walls and door are anything to go by.

Focusing now, Liam finds Josh and Niall hovering over the gaming panel, bickering over what the _‘x’_ across the points mean, and Zayn is watching, the chocolate depths of his eyes cool, but fond. Sitting there, with his legs crouched, slouched over, inky strands of grown out hair let loose, the Omega is beautiful.

Another moan pierces the room, but nobody is affected though Liam doesn’t miss the insignificant lift of Zayn’s mouth. His mouth, Liam thinks foolishly, tells so little…but it’s a rather attractive mouth, with lips that would look quite nice wrapped around his cock. Wincing, the Alpha fidgets because he _doesn’t_ harbor such thoughts, or entertain them–they’re all aware of the rules, the _laws,_ and Liam is responsible enough to heed them. Unlike _some._

Seeming to sense his stare the Omega tears his gaze from the bickering couple, and then their gazes bore. Liam assess the depths, tries to delve deep into the words hiding there until Zayn looks away, “You’re doin’ it again, Li,” he mutters, running trembling fingers through his hair.

“Sorry,” Liam mutters, siding him. Careful, the Alpha rests one hand on the smaller boy’s knee, patting awkwardly until Zayn smiles softly, placing his hand over Liam’s. Sometimes contact startles the Omega, sometimes he’ll shy away…but now doesn’t seem to be one of those times. Intertwining their fingers, Liam lifts the smaller hand to his mouth, brushing his knuckles in thanks.

“Louis’s okay,” the Omega mutters, and unlike any other time there’s this self-conscious note to his low voice. “I know you worry…”

 _I hardly have much time to when all I think about is you anymore._ “Nah,” he murmurs with a whole lot of _meh,_ shrugging one shoulder, watching his chiseled jaw tick. “I don’t have time to worry about Louis and Harry.”

Shyly, Zayn smiles, then, “No? What’s takin’ up all your time?”

“This gorgeous Omega,” Liam murmurs easily, watching colour tinge his lovely complexion, pale in the winter. “’Cause there’s a lot to worry over and figure out.”

“Oh,” he mumbles, then squeezes his hand (Liam doesn’t miss how clammy his hand is, how twitchy he is under the contact). These symptoms from the contact spear through the Alpha’s chest–he knows, the knowledge that Alphas have hurt him before, _burns_ his veins, and his Alpha snarls, wanting revenge. But he _knows_ Harry’s stolen that from him (the bastard). Rationally, he’s thankful, indebted to the Alpha more so than anything else.

“I don’t think those two are ever going to agree with each other,” he comments, gesturing halfheartedly to the _still bickering_ couple.

Zayn _giggles–_ the sound lovely and musical and he’s madly gone for this boy already. “I’m beginnin’ to think arguing is a new relationship trend.”

“Does seem like it,” Liam agrees. “H and Lou seem to _always_ argue. And Ni and Josh. All over _stupidity.”_

“Let’s never let ourselves get on that level,” the Omega suggests hopefully.

At the prospect that Zayn takes _them_ seriously Liam smiles and nods in reassurance. “No, I think not. We’re so above that.”

“I hope so,” the Omega whispers faintly, dropping his gaze.

“’Ey,” the Alpha murmurs quietly, stroking his knuckles with his thumb, then lifting his other hand to tuck a loose strand of inky hair behind his ear, daring to lean it. With the proximity Zayn tenses, but Liam strokes his sharp cheekbone, soft and soothing. “We are.”

“Yeah.” Unsure. Doubtful. Fear lurks in the depths of his gaze, tearing through Liam’s insides. _My sweet boy I’m so sorry someone’s made you doubt relationships so much…But I won’t be another one of them…_

“Can I kiss you?”

Closing his eyes, thick, dark lashes fan out so shadows dance on his cheek as Zayn nods shallowly. Careful, gentle, Liam closes the short space, brushing their mouths, relishing in the soft part of the Omega’s mouth. Almost an invitation. Distancing them again, the Alpha doesn’t watch Zayn open his eyes again, watches his mouth form words, “What kinda kiss was that?”

At the challenge Liam turns to him, arching an eyebrow. “Are you sayin’ I can’t kiss?”

Mischievous, the Omega nods, “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Liam.”

“Let me redeem myself.”

Pulling an unimpressed expression despite the amusement melting the dark of his eyes, Zayn murmurs, “Fine, if you _must._ Alphas. Always trying to–,” but Liam leans in, their breath mingles, and the words get lost.

“You were saying?” he asks in a breath. Low, low heat simmers beneath his skin, his Alpha almost purring in satisfaction at the flutter of Zayn’s lashes.

“Kiss me.” Low, quiet, Zayn is _always_ so quiet, and Liam loves it.

Not needing to be told twice, the Alpha closes the space, their mouths mold and fit. Against his the Omega’s are soft, dry. Adding pressure, Liam’s tongue sweeps over Zayn’s bottom lip as the Omega’s breathing hitches, mouth parting. It’s an invitation, surely. Releasing his hand to snake an arm around his thin waist, Liam tugs him as his tongue strokes the soft, wet of Zayn’s mouth. Sparks.

Groaning low in his throat, Liam memorises the crevasses of his mouth, languidly tasting the soft spice and cinnamon of the gum he’s been chewing as Zayn’s breathing shallows, and the Omegas fluttering hands land on his shoulders. Meeting his tongue’s strokes, this lovely little noise softens between them, so soft and low, caressing his senses. _More._

Calling on his sense, Liam tears away, breathing roughly.

“Better,” the Omega murmurs several minutes later, hands sliding down his arm. Recovering, Liam grins, “I think so too.”

“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” the Omega asks breathily.

“The remorse,” the Alpha mutters, opening his eyes to stare at Zayn’s mouth again, slightly swollen, flushed, tempting. And their gazes bore again, Liam’s flickers between the rings of his brown iris’ and the swollen of Zayn’s mouth until the Omega is sighing, crawling into his lap and making himself achingly small. Tense, confused, Liam’s arms slowly close around him. It’s the very first time the Omega’s initiated the contact, but now his entire body feels warm, it’s not sexual by any means. It’s…lovely, Zayn weighs nothing in his lap, but he’s _warm_ and reassuring and Liam relaxes as the boy breathes softly against his collar, “Why’re you so careful with me?”

At the question he blinks, then swallows, thinking through an appropriate response until settling on, “I don’t want to start too fast…Neither of us are exactly the most relationship erudite.”

At this the Omega laughs huskily, “Neither is Louis or Harry. I mean not really anyway. But they’re still out there somewhere, probably trying to fuck like rabbits.” _Wouldn’t doubt it._

“I think me and you both know the differences between Zayn and Liam.”

“Mmm,” the Omega hums, huddling close. “Yeah, you’re better than Harry. He’s mad. Too insane.” _And you’re better than Louis–he’s loud…too loud. And abruptly the quiet is the most beautiful feeling I’ve experienced._

“Is that why you two never…?”

Knowing, Zayn laughs again. “Why we never hooked up? Or got together seriously? Somewhat. Like I said, he’s _insane,_ like I suppose I shouldn’t say this but he’s not all up there, H isn’t. I need…well I need stability. And H? Harry needs someone as _insane_ as he is. Someone who’s going to make sure he’s put and stays in his place. Me? Nah, I’m rubbish at that…at going against Alphas.”

Liam tenses, some sound forming in his throat– _a growl._ “You won’t need to.”

A low, pleased sound forms in Zayn’s throat– _purrs._ “No?”

“Never,” he promises fiercely. “I will make it so _nobody_ hurts you again.” When the Omega doesn’t respond, Liam smiles a bit, “I’ve never been so glad Harry’s a crazy motherfucker.”

“Even so,” Zayn breathes like it’s a secret, “There’s never been any…romantic attraction between us. Maybe at the first meet. Just an infatuation sort thing. But after a week or two, no.  Never. I’ve never…been attracted to anyone like I am to you. I’m attracted to your personality most.”

“Are you sayin’ I’m ugly?” Liam asks; understand the Omegas’ need to speak his feelings without being pressed to the point of discomfort.

“Well,” Zayn murmurs, going along with this gratefully, “While we’re being shallow, no, Liam, I do not think you’re ugly.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” he continues, teasing.

“Because I’m too sly for you.”

“You know what?” Liam asks lightly. “I think you’re right. Sometimes I forget to think outside the box. I think you’re rather proper at that though.”

Under the compliment the Omega visibly softens, “Yep. Zesty Zayn. Loser Liam.”

“Hey now,” Liam starts, poking him playfully (despising how he flinches, like Liam’s going to hurt him), “I think its Luscious Liam.”

Snorting, the Omega rests his head on Liam’s shoulder, repeating, “Loser.”

“Hmm. What about Niall? Nailed Niall? Ninja Niall? Notorious Niall.”

“No, no, no,” the Omega shoots those down to murmur firmly, “All wrong. It’s Natal Niall.”

Barking out pleased laughter, Liam leans down to nose at his temple, “Brilliant. Now Josh.”

“Juvenile Josh. To match Natal Niall.”

“Harry.”

“Horrendous Harry.”

“Louis.”

“Lovely Louis.”

“Of course Louis gets all the love,” Liam murmurs, fighting an altogether pleased grin. “I’m wounded, honestly.”

“Alright, alright,” Zayn placates as he snuggles closer, “Looney Liam.”

Rolling his eyes, the Alpha asks, “Didn’t we just agree that out of all of us, I am the relatively sane one?”

“You’re right. Hmm, then,” the Omega pauses, then, “Oh! Alright. Drum roll.”

Losing the battle, Liam grins, tapping his fingers on the hardwood floorboards until Zayn says decisively, “Lubricated Liam.” Seeming very pleased with the name, the Omega snickers as Liam groans, shaking his head fondly, about to speak again when Niall interrupts, skipping over to settle ungracefully before them, “Seems the lovebug has returned to bite you two in your arses.”

“Natal Niall,” Zayn whispers, and Liam grins, kissing him chastely.

As Niall’s Alpha nears, he sings, _‘Lovebug’_ by the Jonas Brothers until Liam leans in to whisper against the curve of the Omega’s ear, “Juvenile Josh.” And this time when Zayn kisses _him,_ his mouth lingers, and his scent rushes through Liam’s veins, erotic spice and cinnamon.

“PICTURE TIME!” Niall shrieks, pulling out his phone and snapping shots of them in the same instant before Zayn can tear away. “Awe, Joshie! They’re camera shy!”

“No, Ni, you’re simply violating our _privacy,_ ” Zayn murmurs dryly while Liam is still trying to find oxygen–it’s abandoned him.

“Ni, darlin’, stop pestering the poor lads.”

Niall shoots his to-be-mate a cutting glare, but then those blue eyes glint as he murmurs elatedly, “Good idea! It’s time to terrorize my latest subjects!” And he grins evilly, rising with the phone in his hand still. “We’re on the hunt, lads! The hunt for our missing packmates.”

Horrified, Zayn groans, “Niall, must you–?”

“Hey!” the Irish boy whips around, pointing the camera at him. “’M letting you off the hook. Don’t be ungrateful. This is the only opportunity I’m giving.” Once in a life time, honest.

When the Omega lifts both hands in surrender, Liam laughs until the Omega elbows him in the ribs, then grins innocently. And were he not attuned to Zayn’s every breath and movement it might be believable.

“Alright! Let’s move, gang!” Liam grins, reminded of Scooby Doo, which _really?_

Standing, Liam takes Zayn’s hand, shrugging, “Just go with it.” Outside the bowling alley, in the foyer, Niall’s in the lead with Josh while Zayn and Liam straggle behind, their hands interlocked as Liam tells him, “I hope we don’t leave this situation scarred for life.”

“Nah,” the Omega reassures easily. “Doubt it. H is quite good at keeping his privacy private.”

“Nobody can escape Niall,” the Alpha reminds, watching Zayn scrunch his face adorably in disgust.

“Disturbing. This disturbs me.”

Fondly, Liam kisses the soft of his hand, “’S okay, Zesty. I’ll protect you.”

“Oh?” the Omega presses, peeking through thick lashes, “And how do you intend to do that, Lube?”

“I will sacrifice my eyes. I will go first. And protect the Omegas’ innocence.”

“Niall is already tarnished as can be,” the Omega snickers; those eyes all melted chocolate bits, swimming with saccharine emotion.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. My ten year old Irish baby is all grown up and disgusting. Ugh.”

“I feel some actual tears coming on,” Zayn seconds mockingly.

Once they’ve climbed the stairway, Niall declares, “Alright, pack, as our leader, Louis, is nowhere to be found I am his right-hand in charge. It’s our mission to find them. Josh and I will go right. Liam and Zayn, left! Go! Go! Go!” And the Irish boy starts creeping down the hall to the right, flattened against the wall. Amused, the two watch Niall begin opening the doors loudly, screeching, “All clear, Josh!”

“I think…I think I love him,” Zayn claims, and Liam believes him–it’s impossible to _not love Niall Horan._ “But don’t let him hear that.”

“Nope. I’ll take it to the grave with me. Now, lessgo before the ‘right-hand’ comes to cuff us for not doing our jobs.”

Like this they start down the left hall in silence. At times Zayn will do these whimsical karate moves when Liam opens a door, taking on postures, then jumping up when Liam murmurs, “Empty.” Its two halls down when Liam hears it–giggling.

“Shh! Shh!” the Omega halts their movements. “The door is open.”

“Alright. ‘M goin’ in.”

“No!” Zayn hisses, tugging him to a standstill again. “Let me get to the otherside and notify Niall first.”

“Are we really doing this?” Liam asks incredulously, hoping so. Playful Zayn doesn’t surface often unless around Louis, and well…Liam likes the idea that he might be comfortable enough to be mischievous around him too.

Grinning brilliantly, the Omega nods, “Yeah, we are,” then crouches to do a spy-roll to the otherside of the door, sitting up and flashing his mobile. Fond, the Alpha watches as he types a text out, then goes to ask, but– “Nah, I always assumed tomatoes were fruits.”

“What? Why?” it’s Louis now, sounding completely disturbed. Of course these two are talking about the classification of a bloody tomato. Liam figures they could talk on and on about the most insignificant topics for _hours_ without growing bored. But he realises that’s because Harry hangs on Louis’s every word, and Louis’s always been highly opinionated…The two _work._ And Liam thinks that _he also_ hangs on _Zayn’s_ every word about as much as Harry does with Louis, but unlike Louis, who struggles to bite his tongue, who’s always looking to quip and challenge, Zayn takes things seriously, observes rather than notes.

At this his best-mates Alpha laughs, then, “Dunno. They’re red. And shiny? Like apples? Plus it’s botanically claimed a fruit as there’s–,”

“But they aren’t fruity!”

“Not all fruits have to be fruity, do they?”

“I dunno…” Louis laughs prettily, and Liam peeks around to find the two hanging upside down at the foot of the bed, sheets and blankets a disarray mess. Like that Harry’s back is to the door, but upside down the Alpha is staring at Louis, who’s facing him, and Louis’s blind eyes are steady on Harry in ways they’ve never been steady on anyone else. Between them it’s like those comic strips, hearts in pinks and red floating about them.

Looking in now, Liam can’t deny it, the flourishing love between the two, their body language speaks in measures; Louis is curved toward Harry, who’s hand strokes down Louis’s arm, then toys with his fingers, lifting their hands and holding them close in the air, an everlasting touch (Styles has a _very sappy side–note to self)._ “It would be only reasonable. I still say tomatoes are veggies.”

“You can’t just–,” Harry tries to protest.

“Yes, I can,” Louis interrupts, giggling and then twisting on the bed. Not wanting to be caught, Louis ducks backwards, and meets Zayn’s questioning stare, mouthing _“GROSS”_ until the Omega clamps a hand over his mouth to stifle his giggles. Adorable. Cute. Not so intimidating anymore.

Footsteps approach. Liam peeks around again to find the two in an entirely new position, Louis sitting cross-legged, Harry’s head in his lap, the boy’s fingers foraging in his waves. And Harry looks so…calm, eyes shut, nose pressed to Louis’s thigh, humming low in his throat to some tune as Louis leans down, whispering something in his ear. Liam only catches, “Hazza…they’re…I…’em…trust…louder…”

Grinning slowly, Harry’s hums rise in decibels until the Alpha rolls abruptly, and Louis stands on the mattress, facing the door and screeching, pointing his little index finger much too high, keeping his eyes shut, “You perverted fucks! I know you’re there! Attack, puppy, attack!”

Stunned, Liam watches as Harry springs to a stance, following Louis’s order by starting towards Liam, grinning wickedly. “Well, well, well,” the other Alpha murmurs smugly. “Kitten was right.”

“I am always right!” Louis chirps from the mattress, crossing his arms. “Now attack, puppy!”

Within seconds Liam is being tackled by Harry Styles, who is apparently Louis’s _‘puppy’._ At the impact, Liam groans, cursing and hefting his knees so the other Alpha goes sprawling in the opposite direction. Someone crawls beside him, caressing his cheek–Liam would know this touch anywhere, hesitate, shaky, sweet, “Li? Liam, you okay, mate?”

Like an idiot, Liam grins, staring at Zayn from this angle, chiseled, sharp, perfect, strands of inky hair hanging into his right eye. “Never been better.”

“Where is the concern for me?!” Harry exclaims from beside him. Deep inside his Alpha snarls, warning the other Alpha to stay in his lane because Zayn isn’t any concern of his anymore; just like Louis isn’t any of Liam’s. And that doesn’t bother him anymore.

“Fuck you,” Zayn spits, looking extremely outraged at his best mate (hell is Liam pleased by the shock that flickers over Harry’s features before the other Alpha grins lopsidedly). “What the hell did you think you were pulling?”

“Awe, Zaynie!” Louis comes into the hall, stumbling. Instantly, Harry sits up, reaching out to balance his fumbling, worried Omega. The expression that melts Harry’s features makes Liam realise this Alpha loves Louis better than any other could–definitely better than Liam could. And Liam is beginning to love Zayn better than Harry ever could, too. “Don’t be angry. ‘M training my puppy. He’s a little…arsehole sometimes. But he means no harm.”

“No harm,” Harry parrots, pulling an innocent expression that Liam watches Zayn glower at, pinning the other Alpha with a _‘you’re-gonna-get-it-when-Louis-isn’t-around-just-wait-on-it’_ look. And that Zayn cares this much causes his heart to expands dangerously as Liam stares at the Omega.

“Fine,” the Omega mutters, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, “C’mon, Li. I’m done with these idiots.” Following this, Liam rises to an unsteady stance, letting Zayn grab his hand and lead him away. This time…Liam doesn’t spare one glance backwards–not even when Louis calls sadly, “Guys! Don’t go!” or when Niall and Josh finally arrive with shrieks and shouts. Because it doesn’t feel like he’s leaving anything behind anymore…It feels like everything that’s ever mattered is forward, holding his hand, leading him where he needs to be.

♥

            “I don’t know why they left,” Louis says, placing his hands on his hips, and pointing a disapproving look in the direction Harry’s in. “Could it have been all the unnecessary tackles and growling?”

In response the Alpha cackles that sound Louis loves, like it’s hilarious. “Let it be reminded that you’re the little brat that encouraged and led me.”

“D’you listen to every command an Omega issues, Beta?” the Omega taunts, mouth threatening to curve into an altogether pleased grin.

Even now Louis can’t manage to anticipate his Alpha’s intentions–one second the Omega is standing in what must be the centre of the large, foreign bedroom, hip cocked, the next he’s pinned to the bed–the landing barely felt as Harry’s arms are hooked beneath his arms, casketing his back and shoulders. A playful growl vibrates between them from Harry’s chest, and Louis shivers before erupting in peals of giggles.

“That’s more like it,” the Alpha murmurs, hands braced on either side of Louis’s head, holding his weight. “Always a better conversation when you’re beneath me.”

Startled, warmth spreads high on his cheeks, and his voice is lost, breath stolen.

“Nothing to say now?” the arrogant tone makes Louis’s tummy pool with heat. “Damn is it great to be on top.” _It’s been so long since you were on top of me…_

Reaching up, Louis threads his fingers softly in the thick of Harry’s waves, leaning forward to kitten lip his Adam’s apple. Between them the current thrills, an electric humming in Louis’s veins. Above him, the Alpha tenses, and his scent drafts through Louis’s senses, thick, mint and evergreen and Alpha. A little mewl escapes his parted mouth, but Louis is determined, even as his inside come undone, desire swimming in his head.

“Wham!” he shrieks without warning, shoving at Harry’s chest, and giggling in breathless anticipation when Harry sprawls out on his back. Climbing over his long, long body, Louis straddles his stomach, leaning in to cup his jaw, breathing, “How the tables have turned, Betaboy.”

Tense beneath him the Alpha growls–Louis _knows_ that sound, knows what it means, knows that if he shuffles down a bit more there’s going to be the bulging outline of the erection his Omega wants between his legs, inside his bum. Sitting up, the boy lowers his hand on Harry’s chest, fingers toying with the piercing in his right nipple, feeling _glorious_ when the breath leaves Harry in a hiss. “Ah, ah,” he murmurs softly. “I like chocolate. And I like flowers. I love silk and I want diamonds,” _and your knot,_ his Omega reminds crudely enough that his cheeks bloom with heat and he wants to hide from himself but continues shakily, “Perhaps you should write all this down before you make another move?”

“You play _dirty,”_ Harry decides, linking their fingers, “You’re a little cheat.”

Louis pouts, feigning outrage. “I did _not_ cheat! I won fair and square, Sir. You pulled the whole _‘always better when you’re beneath me’_ card so I simply used _my_ sexual allure to my advantage.”

“Cheat,” the Alpha sing-songs, laughing when Louis squeezes his hands, then bends his stupid, long fingers.

“You have long creepy fingers,” the Omega says pertly just because.

Much to his discontent, Harry only laughs again. “Mmm. Better to pleasure my cheatin’ Omega with.”

Louis narrows his blind eyes, then as to get under his skin, says, “You couldn’t pleasure me if you had the longest fingers in the world, Betaboy.”

“That’s fine,” again he doesn’t bite, so self satisfied that butterfly’s must be fluttering around them. “’S not about the size, lovely, it’s about the _experience,_ and how you use what you’re given.”

Louis licks his lips, curiously toying with Harry’s fingers now. “So…say I decided to use mine? To…um, explore a bit. Would…” he swallows nervously, then blurts the finish before he loses all courage, “Would I have to do something specific?” _I only want to make sure the next time you get rough you get inside me and I’m not all clenched up._

When the Alpha doesn’t immediately respond, Louis ducks his head, shielding his eyes with his fringe and mumbling, “Nevermind, um, I don’t know why I a-a-asked.” Then realises he’s not being entirely honest, and corrects, “Well…really I don’t want to ask Ni…I want _you_ to tell me. I want you to make it okay for me. For me to do it myself. I’m scared to do it without knowing what I’m doing. It…Yeah so.”  

“Okay,” Harry whispers, stroking his knuckles, then clearing his throat. “If you can’t get wet…use lube. You know what that is?”

Louis swallows, flushed, nodding. “Yes. Erm, liquid oily stuff. Betas use it…And a lot of the Omegas who can’t get wet use it, yeah?”

“Yeah, exactly. It will help. It helps to be turned on when you’re trying to do that too though. Helps loosen you up some. So, when you want to do that, lovely, make sure you’re comfortable enough.”

“Okay,” Louis whispers, embarrassed to ask, “Which finger do I use?”

Serious, the Alpha murmurs, “Well. I don’t advise your thumb or pinky. The other three will do the trick.”

“All _three!?_ ” Louis asks uneasily, clenching up at the mere _thought._

“No!” Harry rushes, seemingly disturbed by Louis’s gullibility. “No. Do _not_ try all three at once. Christ.”

Mortified, his frayed nerves spark, and Louis moans in absolute frustration, “Then _how,_ Harry?!”

“Lou, love,” Harry responds quietly, stroking his knuckles, squeezing his hand. “Calm down. Otherwise I’m calling this conversation quits.”

Blowing out an entirely annoyed breath, Louis mutters, “Then quit acting like I should _know these things._ I haven’t made love to anybody. Not myself even.”

At this the Alpha laughs softly, “Made love to yourself?”

“No,” the Omega breathes, squirming, daring to settle his bum right over the Alpha’s crotch, biting his lip when Harry’s hips hike, seemingly an involuntary response. Another glorious rush causes Louis’s voice to come breathily, “But I will have to, I suppose.”

Motionless beneath him, its minutes that drag by, the current thrills and hums and _ignites_ between them as Louis’s breathing shallows into little quick breaths. “Tell me when you do it,” the Alpha says roughly, abruptly, squeezing his hands firmly, “Let me know first.”

Though the Omega wants to beg Harry to do it, Louis knows better, knows right now Harry will shut it down without any consideration. So, utterly embarrassed and turned on and naïve, the Omega doesn’t let the conversation, the _opportunity_ , go, “Alright. Well which one first?”

“Index,” the Alpha whispers, and the timbre in his voice, the command has Louis dampening in seconds as he breathes, rocking against him _only a bit_ , careful not to start quick, breaking down the defenses cautiously. “Yeah,” Louis breathes, wanting to plant his palms on Harry’s chest and start _moving,_ “And then what? What would you do?”

“I’d start with my mouth,” he says, and the Omega nods, almost panting at the idea, the damp growing _wet,_ not much, but it’s warm, and welcoming as Louis urges, “W-What about your mouth?”

“You know what,” it’s a rough, confused breath as the Alpha takes his hands back, settling them on his hips, and Louis knows he’s going to stop his movements, but the boy grinds hard on his cock, circling his hips desperately. “Louis, c’mon, baby, sto–,”

“No,” Louis moans, shaking his head frantically, “No no no, Alpha. I need…I need…Need your fingers and your mouth on me where…where I’m wet.”

A rough sound rips through the Alpha’s chest and his fingers grip achingly harsh, pacing up his hips until Louis tilts his head back, whimpering.  In an abrupt movement, Harry sits up, and takes Louis’s hair in hand, keeping his head back to mouth at his throat, “I told you _no._ I said no…and you still…” Louis rakes his nails across his chest, against the piercings, pleased when Harry makes a deep noise that is approval. “You’re so bad. So good. Fuck I don’t know…”

“’M good,” Louis mumbles, hands sneaking between them to open his trousers and–, “Alright, alright, party’s over! Sorry not sorry! Getcha shit together! Louis, stop seducing the poor bloke! And damn it H stop fallin’ for it. He doesn’t deserve it! Don’t give in so easily!”

Groaning in horror, Louis buries his face in the slope of Harry’s throat. Laughing throatily _relieved_ , the Alpha mutters, stroking his shoulder. “Sorry, babes, but Charmy ain’t takin’ no for an answer.”

The desire’s been stomped out, once again, by Niall’s brutal honestly, and Louis’s flushed only with disgrace and upset.  “I wish it wasn’t so,” Harry breathes secretively. Butterflies. Flush. _Reassurance–_ shoving the self-deprecating thoughts back into his mental closet as the Omega lets out an uneven breath, unable to voice his relief. Humming, the Alpha seems to understand, petting him until Niall demands compliance.

Harry pulls him to a stance, tucking him into his side as they stumble out of the room, following the Irish boy, who gushes excitedly, “’S going to be so much _fun!_ ”

Downstairs Louis clings to Harry’s waist even as Niall grips his upper arm, tugging in attempts to have at him. “COME ON, LOU! YOU KNOW THE RULES! NO ALPHAS ALLOWED!”

“But,” Louis puts up feebly, “Harry’s a Beta. Betaboy.”

“You know damn well that ain’t true,” the Irish boy scolds. “Now _let go!”_ Another three tugs until Louis sighs, but leans up, smiling shyly. “Kiss?”

In that instant the Alpha cups his face in those ridiculously large hands, fingers brushing at his fringe as Harry lowers his mouth so it’s over Louis’s. Sighing under the blissful contact, the boy parts his mouth, welcoming, but then Niall gives another, harsh yank, shocking him enough that he’s torn away, stumbling into the Irish lad.

“So pushy!” the Omega mutters, snatching his arm back.

“Yep,” the Irish boy acknowledges. “Zayn! Getcha ass over here! ‘S time to depart!”

“Shut up,” the other Omega grumbles, but there’s a fond note to the words that causes Louis’s heart to swell with affection for his two boys. His pack. One by one they’re pulled into hugs, Liam grabs Louis first, kissing his hair, “Be careful, please.”

“We’re not going _partying_ or anything, Li,” the Omega grins, pinching his side playfully. “We’re going for last minute ceremony preparations.”

“Still. Knowing you three…”

When he goes to assure the fretful Alpha, he’s shoved by Niall and into Josh, embracing the Alpha who says the _exact same thing._ Blessedly, Louis ends up back in Harry’s arms, purring against his throat as Harry murmurs, pleased, “Be careful, Louis. Be careful. Be careful. Be careful. Four from me.”

Warmed, Louis closes his eyes, and softens only for him. “You’re an arse. I love you. I promise to be careful. And I’ll text you the entire time.”

“I don’t want my kitten to go,” the Alpha murmurs against his temple, arms tightening around his waist.

“I don’t want to go…”

“Well that’s too bad,” says Zayn. “Because you’re _going._ Come on, Louis.”

Sighing, Louis breaks away from his home, but giggles girlishly when Harry pulls him back in, planting another kiss to his seeking mouth. “Miss you already. I’ll be waiting.” Before he can respond, or act on the emotion reeling through him, he’s herded away, outside then into the backseat of Niall’s car, fumbling with the buckle a bit until the safety’s secure. Once they drive away, the Irish boy sighs, “I dunno ‘bout you two, but I’m starving.”

“Food!” Louis chirps, easing forward as Zayn hums in agreement. “Yeah, food, while I can eat without being monitored.”

“You don’t eat enough,” Louis mimics Harry’s deep voice.

“Three meals are necessary for your health,” Zayn joins in, mimicking Liam’s voice, warmed, accented to perfection.

“I want to eat your ass,” Niall chimes in.

“Oh, God, no!” Louis makes a disgusted face. “Ni, why do you always feel the need to go there?”

“Hey! I was only mocking Josh! ‘S not my fault he loves my little arse so much!” the Irish lad says cheerily, then curses, turning sharply enough that Louis’s head nearly hits the right window.

“Watch it, Niall!” Zayn reprimands. “Who the hell allows you on the road?”

“Lucky it’s _me_ and not Louis,” Niall comments, accelerating.

Louis shrugs, nodding, “True.”

“Is this a thing between you two? Insult Louis through his disability and have him agree?”

At the same time Niall cackles, Louis laughs. “Oh, Zaynie, you’re funny!” the Irish boy says between breaths, steering right. “’M not insulting Lou! And it’s not a damned disability! I am treating Louis like the normal boy he is. Because he cannot see does not mean I cannot tease him. Lighten up some.”

“Niall is the only one who understands me,” Louis claims quietly, touched by the realisation that Niall doesn’t treat him like he’s fine china–at least not as much as the rest.

“Damn right,” they come to an abrupt, screeching halt, vehicles honking at them, outraged as Niall spits, “FUCKING IDIOTS! LEARN TO FUCKING DRIVE!” Then, naturally cheery once again, “Where was I? Oh, right! Where do you want to eat?”

“When’s the appointment with the caterer?” Zayn asks considerately–Louis is so grateful to have him, someone who’s able to remind Niall of his responsibilities when Louis cannot (as he’s never been responsible himself).

“Five!”

“Niall…it’s four fifty,” Zayn says.

At this the Irish boy laughs, delighted, “Honest?”

“Yes, honest, idiot!” the other Omega hisses with misplaced hostility, and Louis thinks he hits Niall because the Irish lad yelps, and the car swerves. Slightly terrified for his life, Louis squeezes his eyes shut (for once grateful that he can’t see–at least death with greet him without all the gory details).

“O! Now look what you’ve done! You scared him!” Niall hisses, seeming to slam the gas as they propel forward, the seatbelt catching on Louis’s chest as he is sent backwards into the seat.

“I scared him? You’re all over the bloody road!”

“Don’t judge my damned drivin’ skills!”

“Pull over! I am not going to let you drive us to our deaths!”

“OVER MY DEAD BLOODY BODY! And if my body is dead then so is everyone else!” They’re progressively reaching speeds that cause his tummy to knot with anxiety as the two bicker back and forth. “Guys,” Louis mumbles, trying hard to withstand the nausea.

“You cunt! Wait until we get to where we’re going–!”

“You probably don’t even know where that is!”

“Guys,” Louis tries again, a bit louder. More arguing. More speed. More fearful nausea. Louis leans forward with force, tapping someone’s shoulder. “ZAYN.”

“You’re going to–!”

“GUYS!” Louis shrills at the top of his lungs. When the two shut up, Louis shrills again, “We’re going so _fast!_ And I’m not feeling–,” _so well._   Sirens bring his voice to an abrupt halt. _Oh no…_ Anxiety spirals in his veins and Louis _knows_ the sickness is seconds behind when Niall screeches, nearly slamming the brakes, “Now look what you’ve done!”

“Me?!” the other Omega sputters once they’re securely parked. As both boys are oblivious in their argument, Louis doesn’t attempt to plea for help, lurching for the door instead and hoping it’s the side that _isn’t_ toward the road. Struggling with the handle, Louis manages to shove it open, blessed fresh, scentless, _soothing_ air wafting over his sweaty face. Dizzied, the Omega trips up on the way out, the jarring impact felt only on his knees as the nausea churns in his tummy. Just like that lunch comes up, and he moans miserably. _This is going to be an extremely long evening…_

♥

            “Never. Again.” Clipped. Contained– _just barely._

“Mhm,” Louis encourages, crossing his arms where he’s seated in the passenger side of the Alpha’s car, comforted with the knowledge that Harry is behind the wheel. “Tell ‘em, Hazza.”

“Shut up, Louis.”

Stunned his mouth falls open then closes as annoyance prods at him. “Excuse me, I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I know it’s not Louis. I know because Louis is the _victim_ in this whole mess, Louis tried to stop these two fools, but–,”

“Third person–,” before the Irish boy sulking in the backseat can finish, Louis twists in his seat, narrowing his eyes, “Shut your mouth, Horan. You are the reason this one,” he tilts his head in Harry’s direction, “is in an absolutely piss-poor mood.”

“Why am I the only one–?!”

“You’re _not!_ ” this time it’s not Louis’s voice, it’s an Alphas snarl. Vehemence–the sound is vehement with so much rage that Louis shrinks back into his seat. “Z is also responsible,” cool, collected, in control once again. “All three of you are responsible–yes, Louis, I know somehow you were also involved because you seem to be involved in _everything._ All over an argument, too. You chanced each other’s lives all over choosing where to eat.” _Like that’s so hard to believe._

“We were only tryin’ to be healthy responsible young men,” Louis retorts sweetly.

In the backseat both Zayn and Niall wince–someone kicks the back of his seat. Now they’re cowering in their seats, Louis thinks, annoyed, wishing he had the nerve to turn around and stick his tongue out. It’s _just Harry, honestly._

“And we didn’t almost get into–,”

“Ninety five miles per hour in a fifty zone,” Harry bites back. “I trusted you. I thought, _you know they’re responsible young me–,”_

“Eating is very important, y’know,” Louis chirps pleasantly. In response: another kick, another menacing growl.

“Oh, please!” Niall snorts, their two-way conversation continuing like Louis hadn’t spoken. “You’re not my ruddy dad!”

“Niall,” the Omega warns, slightly defensive because the only Omega allowed to challenge Harry is _him._ “Just shut up.”

“No,” the Irish boy hisses in response, “No because I am _not_ going to sit back and be lectured like some–,”

“Let’s clarify some things,” the Alpha timbre in Harry’s voice silences Niall as instantly as it does Louis, who’s Omega curls up, terrified even now that when they’re alone…the punishment is going to be severe. As much as Louis tries to hide this, to stifle the expectations, to keep them veiled, he’s dripping panic everywhere. “First,” now, as if sensing the hurricane of distress wrecking havoc in his lungs Harry’s voice eases, and the ringing in Louis’s ears does in turn. “You’re all special to someone. Including me.”

“Gee, this is starting off _beautifully,_ ” Zayn mutters in the backseat, and oddly enough the Omega’s voice is small, thoroughly helpless.

“One more word,” the Alpha threatens tightly, “One more fucking word and I am stopping this car and making you all walk your sorry arses home.” At that Louis flinches–would being abandoned be worse than being punished (not the type Harry showed him his birthday night, the actual, _authentic_ type of punishment, the kind you receive when you’ve disobeyed to the extreme–like crying when you’re not supposed to, like forgetting to take your medication, like panicking and screaming and struggling to breathe when your vision suddenly flickers into nonexistence when you’re walking home from school all alone, when you’re holding a glass of milk that shatters on impact like your vision, or your soul. The punishment Louis expects, understands, deserves)?

“I’m callin’ yer _bluff!_ You wouldn’t make Louis lift a little finger, let alone walk some miles home _blind!” Should Louis believe this too?_

“Are you Louis? No. Then your ass can walk.”

“Alright this is exactly what started this entire mess. Keep your eyes on the road and stop trying to glare at Niall, Styles. You can have at him once we’re safely home,” much like Louis had, Zayn attempts to appease the two, to diffuse the escalating situation, and much like Louis had, Zayn _fails._

“Just shut the fuck up already. I don’t know how Lou puts up with you! Yer so bloody arrogant and controlling!” Niall yells, accent thickening with the quick insults–childish as ever.

“Arrogant? I am not being arrogant for wanting to make sure you three _come home with your heads attached!_ And maybe I am controlling, but only when I have to be,” the Alpha snarls, but his words blessedly don’t change their easy, controlled cruise.

“Well then get yer head outta yer ass, asshat!”

Giggles. Stunned, Louis realises the exasperated laughter is coming from him. Closing his mouth the boy tries to stop the sounds bubbling up inside him, but epically fails. Leaning against the plush leather seating, Louis surrenders to the high trills until his belly begins to ache from the force of the sound.

When they’ve become little hiccups, the silence pours into the space between them.

“I don’t see how any of this is funny,” the Alpha says, deceptively quiet.

More snickers–tears begin to ooze past his lashes when someone winces and kicks again. But Louis wipes at his eyes, then does what he _shouldn’t,_ leaning over and pressing a loving kiss to what feels like Harry’s cheek, breathing, “I am so pissed at you right now.”

Underneath his mouth the Alpha’s jaw ticks, before, “The feeling is mutual, kitten.”

“Excellent,” Louis murmurs, leaning back into his seat, “because once I’m on my feet I am going to hurt you.” And he’s serious, if Harry thinks he’s going to go willingly into abuse he’s sorely mistaken. Louis is so sick and tired of submitting, he’s tired of quietly suffering–the realisation comes over him in an unexpected rush, forceful enough that his heart might implode. Freedom–this is what freedom from mind must feel like.

Almost _floating_ with the sudden surge, Louis doesn’t mind that the two sulking behind them are (for the first time _ever)_ are very, very quiet. Seems they’ve decided to let Louis deal with his Alpha. _Excellent,_ because he’s prepared to–knowing better, having learnt much more in his _hiding_ - _time_ , his Omega is scrambling to find another body to seek shelter in, howling _stupid, boy, so stupid._

Well, Louis decides he would much rather be stupid than cower in fear at the feet of an Alpha who is supposed to care for him–first (hundredth) time shame on _‘him’,_ second time, shame on Louis, and there _won’t_ be a third time to shame _anyone._ Because anything is better than that betrayal. Physical pain couldn’t come _close._

 

♥

            When the Alpha pulls through the great gates into the stretchy drive his knuckles are white with how tight his fingers are curled around the steering wheel. Attempting to collect his mangled, disturbing thoughts, to rein the animal tearing its way through his conscious shield, Harry stares straight ahead. Snow stretches, plush and comforting the barren grounds–plush, comforting natures frozen defense shrouds its true intentions well.

But he’s always seen past beauty’s outer core, can easily detect beauty’s ability to incapacitate, to burn, to freeze, to thin the skin until it’s a vulnerable membrane. Because soon the snow will melt becoming the flood that wrecks whatever semblance he’s managed to attain. Unseeing, the Alpha wonders why he could never detect Louis’s ability to do the burning, the freezing, the subjecting to danger…

Not when he’d first seen the boy with blue blind eyes had he known the force of such a small creature. But now he’s surely reached the lowest of lows–especially in the eyes of the Council. Though this shouldn’t bother him, because he doesn’t give any fucks about the Council…it does.

_What is an Alpha supposed to do when he can’t breathe when his Omega’s talking touching taking? And all he wants is for that same Omega to talk forever to touch forever to take everything…_

Louis Tomlinson has incapacitated him one word, “leave,” and even now the sound rings in his head. Louis Tomlinson has burned him with desire, with emotion, that continues to burn, stretched tight over his psyche. Louis Tomlinson has frozen him with these same emotions, spiking icy inoculations past the burn in his skin, straight to his veins. Louis Tomlinson has done something to him, shifted the tectonic plates he’d thought to be permanently fixed…

Reminding him that there’s such thing as reality one of the rear doors shuts. Zayn and Niall, he figures as even now he’s attuned to Louis beside him–his every breath, his every fidget, his every emotion–hesitance, irritation…illumination. How much they suddenly have alike.

“Did you know?” Harry starts, mouth quirking up on one side as some twisted humor comes over him. Ironic that the tectonic plates have shifted…but he’d never once until the blind eyes of an Omega who shouldn’t have meant anything to him in the first place. Who still shouldn’t. “That I feel like I’m made of tectonic plates?”

Without warning there’s a muted click, and the open door brings in a chilly draft. Stilling the Alpha holds his breath. As expected Louis exits the vehicle, slams the door behind him. And goes nowhere. As the Alpha sits there, hands clutching the steering wheel the Omega doesn’t…storm away. He’s not running. Funny that Harry feels like doing exactly that.

Exhaling the breath he’d kept captive, the Alpha unbuckles, opens the door, and steps outside. Light is fading–the dregs of evening overcome by nightfall. Winds whirl, snow melting in his hair, melting all around him under the force of his red-haze-of-turmoil.

But…when Harry’s eyes focus and pinpoint Louis, the haze spreads, parting to give him the clarity he needs to clutch his sanity. Leaning against the car, the boy’s toying with his delicate fingers, and his fringe is a mess teased by the wind. Around him looks so cool compared to the fire that’s stoked Harry.

Involuntarily the Alpha steps close close close until he’s saturated by the chill surrounding the Omega, who stands straight, unseeing gaze over his shoulder.

“Is there,” Louis starts quietly, swallowing once, “some type of shaded woodsy area around here?”

Unable to find his voice, Harry nods, even know Louis can’t see, hoping the Omega will take his silence as _‘yes’._ Always in synch with him the Omega nods, holding out an unsteady hand, “Let’s take a stroll.”

No hesitance–even as shivers run up his spine at the warm bliss the simple contact rushes through his bloodstream. Crossing the stretch of snow, the Alpha leads Louis to the start of the trail leading to the manmade lake and pier, frozen over with winter the trail is unused, them being the first idiots to stray out this way since the start of the season. Beneath their travels the snow crunches and their shoes sink ankle deep (which Harry winces at because unlike his leather, winter-resistant boots, Louis is in a pair of Vans). Stopping suddenly, the boy takes his hand back, and clasps them together, waiting.

Sighing when he doesn’t move, Louis crosses his arms, teeth closing over his plush bottom lip. Gaze locked there, the Alpha struggles against the animal’s desire and his own. “What are we doing?” his voice drifts with the roaring wind.

Louis bats his fringe away from his face, then pinches his eyes shut, releasing his bottom lip to whisper, “I am waiting for you to make a move?”

“A move?” the question is sharp as his defensive instinct rises on its hind legs.

“Yeah…y’know,” the boy’s voice mingles beautifully with the wind, “m-my punishment. I t-t-old you I wasn’t going to let you hurt me without a fight. And ‘m not. But I won’t outright…You can like…”

Agitation tenses his muscles–unconsciously he bares his canines, hissing like some sort of rabid animal. True to his Omega nature, Louis shrinks, unbelievably tiny, raising his hands protectively. Like that would do anything. Fuck, it does _everything._

Sinking to his knees the Alpha’s arms circle of soft of his waist, and his chilled fingers seek the boy’s skin. Tense, Louis is motionless as Harry rests his head on the soft of his belly, clutching. “’M not goin’ to hurt you,” his throat must be dry because his voice sounds like it hasn’t been used in a bloody year, “’M really not. I don’t know how many times I have to say it. Why do you always seem to think the worst of _me?_ Have I…? I know I’m a bit out of my mind, we’ve established this. But…we’re ending back here, with this _punishment_ shit. I am _telling you Louis,_ I would _never_ intentionally hurt you. No matter _what._ I don’t care. I might hurt someone else, but I am mentally and emotionally incapable of laying an angry hand on you. Of violating you that way. You hurt…I hurt.”

“This one isn’t going to be easy to get past, Haz…I am not used to…being with Alphas. Liam’s been the only exception for years. S-Someone who helped me…get away, who protected me and kept me alive. Then…then I met you. So many people talk…I don’t like hearing what they say about you because they make you out to be just like the rest.” As he listens, his blood freezes, panic dowsing him. Louis isn’t supposed to hear that shit…It’s no wonder… “But they don’t know anything. You’re not like that, Haz. You’re kind and you’re thoughtful and you’re overprotective and you’re…not like him.”

“Then _why?_ ” Confused, panicked, rigid like the ice in his veins is freezing him solid, the Alpha slides his hand underneath the thick material of Louis’s coat, chilled hand splaying over the hot, hot skin of his lower back. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Louis confesses softly, lifting his hands to toy with his wavy hair, “’S like he’s branded my Omega, trained us to be petrified…no matter what. And I’m sorry I’m like this. I’m sorry I’m so sensitive, ‘m sorry I say stupid things, ‘m sorry I expect the worst from you. I don’t mean to…but I can’t underestimate your abilities.” How could Harry not understand that–if your own Father could beat you to the point of mental damage (Harry has the sneaking suspicion the fucking monster has something to do with the physical damage…with his vision) how could you expect less from an Alpha you’ve not known a year yet?

“Abilities?” he asks in a breath.

“Yes, Haz,” Louis whispers, running one delicate finger over the line of his jaw. “Nothing about you is manageable. You’re impossible to contain. You’re above me in every way. You get what you want when you want it. And you get when you don’t even want. You don’t care what anybody says about you. You burn all the time with so many words and feelings and thoughts…and I don’t. You’re influential. You’re powerful–born into this or _not._ You’re all these incredible things. And I can’t keep up.”

Shaking his head, short laughs escape him. Mirthless. Hollow. “No. I’m unmanageable because I don’t have any sympathy. Maybe in status…but that’s easily overlooked. I get what I want because I’m a dick, because people are too scared to cross me and my Father and the Council that is my names _shadow._ I don’t care because when you’re treated like shit, like nothing but a name, a _title,_ you learn to be crueler than the world around you.” These words, these stupid fucking words…they won’t stop spilling from his mouth. “I burn with resentment and bitterness and so much _disgust._ Because I loathe this society. I hate that I was born into this piss-poor “lineage”. I was empty.

“And sometimes when you’re not around, when I don’t feel your presence…the hollow crawls out from beneath the ground and my ears and down my fucking throat. And sometimes I hate everything; sometimes I wake up and think I would rather set fire to that fucking manor than walk through it one more time…So fucking _empty._ I was so sick of feeling at home in hell…Until now.”

Against his belly, the last frenzied breath leaves him, “Until _you.”_

“Let me go,” his voice shakes and trembles and breaks as Louis squirms. Damned defeated, Harry drops his arms, running his hands through his hair, wondering what the hell is going on with his eyes again–they’re blurred, they sting.

“I’ve thought up a new game plan.”

Confused, the Alpha lifts his head, venom lacing his next words, “What? Leave me instead of making me leave you? Way fucking better.”

Pausing, the blues of Louis’s eyes, swimming with tears, flash; kittenish rage bleeding much the same through the bond to Harry–like he needs anymore anger. “I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Before he can make the mistake of mocking his _‘trying’_ Louis continues softly, “This will be our…anger management. I want you to let out some of that anger that’s built up.”

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that?”

Standing there, some feet away, Louis blinks, then smiles sheepishly, shrugging. “I dunno…I thought like um, Twilight? You know…Go to the forest to like talk and scream or whatever?”

That smile. It’s the kind of smile that makes Harry forget how to do anything but blink, and hell if he understands what’s happening to him. What’s already happened. And he doesn’t know why but suddenly he can’t convince his eyes to find something else to focus on…even knowing those gorgeous ocean-eyes will never focus on him the same.

Slave to that smile the Alpha rises to his feet, tosses his  head back, and shouts, “FUCK,” it’s loud, violent, rough, and more emotional than he cares to admit. Seemingly startled by the absolute force of the sound, echoing off the trees and startling the trees’ inhabitant, Louis takes some steps backwards. “Fuckin’ _hell,_ Louis, you drive me _mad.”_

Stunned, eyes round and ingenious, Louis shivers, expression melting into something sweet, closed to dazed. And _fuck doesn’t Harry live on these looks._ “Damn it,” the force leaves his voice as something close to a smirk finds his mouth, “This is _brilliant.”_

♥

            In awe, Louis sways, listening to Harry’s muted footfalls as the Alpha stalks around, never roaming far–working his rage, every step seems to ignite another burst of flames. Like this, shouting, untamed, crazed, Harry Styles is…beautiful. So…so…beautiful–the sheer masses of energy his prowling movements emit stuns the boy into silence.

Every rough, raw sound that escapes the Alpha caresses his hypersensitive skin, sinks into his weak bones, and spreads warmth through his veins, towering voltages through his nerves.

Like this, the Alpha is dangerous, electric, impossible to contain. Nothing, Louis thinks again, nothing about Harry Styles is manageable.

Everything about him is too much, his actions, his anger, his aura.

His affection.

Lightheaded, Louis slides to the ground, the snow numbing his limbs though he’s burning inside. “Go on,” the breath leaves his dry lips when Harry pauses–always worrying. Resting his cheek to his knees, the boy marvels over the array of frequencies that makes him up. Rage is beautiful on Harry Styles–rage shouldn’t be beautiful on any Alpha. But oh does Harry Styles change everything without even trying.

Any fear melts into exquisite love–warm, secure, depthless emotion.

“Like I don’t fucking _understand!”_ is what Louis catches once the static clears. “I can’t say anything right. I bit my tongue so many fucking times against my words. I didn’t cry once when I was being punished for disobedience during “ _training”._ Just because I didn’t cry doesn’t mean I was automatically desensitized!”

“Of course not, baby,” it’s his voice. Louis almost doesn’t recognise it–so soft, tender, loving. At the thought of his Alpha being _punished,_ his insides churn, but Louis shoves those thoughts away to focus on what Harry shouts next.

“And then I am…useless in this place guided by emotions! Emotions I can’t understand! I don’t fucking understand, Louis,” Harry continues roughly, voice laced with resentment and something else…helplessness? “I tried and I tried and I tried. Again and again and again. I was _tired_ of trying. I was tired of fighting when nothing changed. So I went with it. You know being the lapdog is easy enough.” Another laugh. Empty. Bitter. Louis’s heart aches. “I was fine. And then…And then I knocked you down in that hallway and it was like I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, and it didn’t _go away._ So here I go again. Because you’re under my skin with that bloody buzz and I can’t fucking _quit._ There’s…you’re _addictive._ I should know better…but here I go a-fucking-gain.”

Louis’s head is full of missing buttons and shards of glass and broken pencil tips–nodding too slowly, blinking like an idiot, unable to find the words in his mouth either because they’re lost or because they never existed.

“Is it that we aren’t compatible? Because fuck that. Fuck. That. Straight up, Louis, I am _not_ letting go. I don’t care how many cruel words you spit at me, or how many fucked up words I spit back…”

“You could say goodbye…” Louis breathes through parted, dry lips, terrified by the mere option but offering it one last time before they’re impossible to even think.

“No, I couldn’t. It’s no use,” the Alpha’s voice falls. “I can’t seem to be with or without you sanely. No middle ground. Do you understand what I mean?”

“No…” Louis whispers helplessly.

“I think a lot of shit, Lou. More than I talk. But I think, in a whole other sense, I’m as blind as you. When it comes to this relationship, love shit, ‘m just as fucking blinded. And somehow blinded by love or whatever holds such a negative connotation…I think I understand why. But I don’t understand _love;_ I don’t know how to _love_ like I should.”

Love–negative connotation in Louis’s mind as well. Not so negative emotion pouring from his heart to his veins. In this moment it’s like his brain has caught fire and burned to ash–the words that follow are steady, running with the current, “You already do.”

Seconds fly by, swarming between them all at once. “You love me,” the Omega breathes willfully, rising to his feet, surfacing from the oblivious depths of his swampy mind. “You already do.”

“You’re so naïve,” the Alpha mutters, stalking up to him, cupping his face in surprisingly gentle hands. Willful, smoldering. “And ‘m so selfish to be grateful for this.”

Louis doesn’t understand–his conscious mind has caught up to the rushing waters, stilled it with layers of impermeable ice, screaming _wrong wrong wrong, not love not love not love, nobody could love us, nobody could…_ Humiliation burns on his cheeks as Louis lowers his useless eyes, wrapping his arms around his middle to make himself feel less empty.

The icy realisation exhausts him mentally, and he wants to crawl into bed and fall into REM sleep so he can wake up feeling better. If possible.

“I’m sorry…I don’t…I’m so bloody sorry, kitten,” and Louis is stupid enough to believe him even as he turns his face in attempts to hide the humiliation that’s surely written there. Halting his movement with careful strong hands, the Alpha tries to close in on him, to bury this hole he’s created, but Louis lifts trembling hands to Harry’s chest, prepared to push him away again, except the Alpha tugs him, crushing him to the solid of his tall figure.

“Please, don’t,” his voice is unsteady, hoarse with emotion. Dread. “I…I’m stupid.” _Me too, and I’m trying so hard to stay with you emotionally but I’m being dragged by down and I don’t think I can right now._ Louis wants to say this…but closing his eyes, he keys into his Omega, finds support from his darling submissive side, controlling his body, his next actions. Slipping his arms around Harry’s waist, Louis clings to him, nose pressed to his coat, head tucked underneath his chin. “Yes. You are so stupid.”

“Such an asshat,” Harry uses Niall’s earlier words–this makes Louis smile (only Harry Styles can make him smile at a time like this).

“Such,” Louis agrees, taking his arms back to curl his fingers around the lapels of Harry’s coat.

“You know my feelings better than I do.”

At this the Omega shakes his head sadly, voice muffled in the material of Harry’s coat, “No I don’t.”

“Yes…you do. You always have,” the Alpha breathes, his voice sounds like he’s about to crack, like he’s done, like this is it he’s about to fall apart and Louis tears space between them, raising his face in confusion. Without giving him the chance to speak, those hands, warm and rough, curl around either side of his face, the rings banded on his fingers cool against his burning cheeks. “You do,” Harry repeats silkily, leaning down to catch his bottom lip between his canines.

Just like that the Omega ignites, everywhere, swaying in place as Harry’s mouth sucks at his bottom lip. Shivers. Tremors. Urgency runs down his spine as Louis’s fingers twist in the Alpha’s waves, eyes already shut, pressing his body close, seeking the sexual comfort his body _needs. Please make me feel wanted; don’t let me doubt that,_ the Omega pleads mentally. “You do,” again, releasing his bottom lip momentarily. A needy sound starts in Louis’s throat. “You know me better than I could ever know myself,” the Alpha claims again, one hand flattening on his belly, long, long fingers stretching over the soft span. “You know my feelings. You feel them. I feel yours…Did I tell you that I feel you? I feel your pain and your anger and I feel your pleasure when you’re screaming and clutching the sheets or my hair…but I feel your love. God I keep trying to act like I don’t but I feel it. Just make me believe it, Louis. Make me believe it.”

Helpless to it, Louis parts his mouth, an invitation that the Alpha takes. And his mouth is hot hot hot, the kiss etched with a new desperation. Wet strokes, tasting mint as Harry’s other hand cups his jaw. Surrounded by frost soft explosions burst behind his eyes, like there’s _fireworks_ of colour, swirling around the black–instinctively with Harry sucking languidly on his tongue, Louis takes this as pleasure manifesting itself in his imagination. Doesn’t care what it is when his fingers are fumbling with the buttons to Harry’s coat, struggling against them, managing to get _three_ undone before the Alpha growls against his mouth. Urgency streaks between them as Louis mewls against Harry’s tongue, the wet, rough strokes making him _ache_ everywhere.

Breathing uneven the Alpha’s hands find his hips, hoisting him so Louis’s legs round his waist, and they’re tight against each other, Louis’s mouth to Harry’s shoulder, his arousal pressed against denim, against Harry. Moaning, the Omega feels his back flatten against something solid–a tree?–and pivots his hips, creating blissful friction, striking a match to the light fluid racing through his veins.

Breath warm and desperate, Louis teases the Alpha’s seeking tongue, strokes hesitant and soft against his rough, deep ones. Once again his hands drift to the buttons of his coat, fumbling until Harry joins in replacing his fingers and opening the coat in seconds. It falls to the snow with a muted thud as the Alpha shudders against him, and Louis doesn’t think it’s from the cold, not when his hands flatten on the Alpha’s shoulders, breathing, “Off. Off.”

“You want me to freeze to death,” Harry groans, but tears fractions away, and in seconds the materials slipped free and Louis’s hands are flush against Harry’s unmarred, burning skin. Instinctively, Louis leans in, kissing down the line of his throat as his nails rake lightly down his chest, over the tense muscles of his stomach, between them, tracing the waistband of the Alpha’s jeans. “Fuck,” the Alpha mutters, and his hips jerk, like he’s waiting on it, wanting his touch. “’S been too long. Too long. Need you.”

Assured, Louis loosens his legs so they’re no longer pressed tight, lowering his hands over the bulging erecting in Harry’s trousers. Growling, the Alpha’s hips shove into his touch, and Louis mewls, wrapping his fingers over the denim, gripping the hard, thick length. _Huge…going to be inside of me…Oh yes._

Moaning, Louis wiggles, realising the wets added, beginning to soak up in his pants. Disregarding it, Louis breathes, “Take me,” squeezing, trying to move his hand, unable because the layers. Growing frustrated, the Omega whines, pouting until Harry takes his bottom lip between his canines again, and his arousal aches and pulses and Louis thinks the fire is going to burst behind his eyes as soon as–

“Hush,” Harry whispers, stilling. “Shh.”

Confused, needy, Louis pants, “No, Haz, p-please…N-Need it. Please, please, please.”

Once his mouth is flush against Louis’s, breathing hotly into his mouth, the Omega moans in victory, but Harry breathes, “Please, kitten, I can’t give you unless you quiet down. The others are somewhere around here. I hear them, I know you can. Listen.”

Focusing to the best of his hazy ability, Louis realises Harry is horribly right–in the distance calls erupt, “HAROLD!”

“Lou!”

“Are you two dead?”

“Louis! You better not have hurt H!”

“Shut up, Niall!”

“They’re fine!”

“They’re hiding!”

A search pack. “No,” Louis whispers, starting to grind his hips against Harry’s erection, twisting his hands in the Alpha’s waves so hard it earns him a groan, that deep masculine sound that reverberates from his entire body to Louis’s. Growling, Harry’s hands find his bum, their mouths moving against each other’s again. “You wanna come?” the Alpha breathes roughly, pacing his hips, squeezing his flesh as Louis mewls against his mouth. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” Louis pants, twisting so hard his fingers ache as Harry’s entire body shudders, and his hands grind their erections roughly in the way the Omega craves. “Say my name,” he demands.

“Haz,” the Omega whimpers, “Harry,” it’s a soft mantra between broken, urging sounds as Harry’s fingers trace secret messages into his body–his hips, up his sides, to his back, his belly, his _bum._ “Harry,” Louis gasps at the feeling of Harry’s hands gripping his flesh again, where he’s aching between the round cheeks of his bum.

“Gonna come, kitten,” the Alpha says, fondling him as Louis’s hips work all on their own, and he’s barely breathing, trying so hard to reach the high flames coiled tight in his belly.

“Yes,” Louis mewls, rutting as his upper body gives into his rhythm, and he clings to Harry, resting his mouth on his bare shoulder, teeth sinking into his skin to withhold how loud he’s getting. The calls are drowned by his sounds, and it’s _sexy._

“C’mon, lovely, I want it.” As his hips stutter, Louis bites _hard;_ eyes rolling as his entire body resonates, orgasm ripping through him. The greatest rush he’s ever felt as his arousal pulses and spills in his trousers. “Good boy.” As tinges of metallic fire meet his tongue, spread on his mouth, Louis whimpers, and his body gives, trembling. Hazily, he thinks his heart is a puddle pooling low low in his belly.

Shivering, the Omega purrs low in his throat, ignoring the sticky to focus on the contented bliss. “You feel so good,” the Alpha whispers roughly, and his weight seems to give as Harry leans them into the tree, face buried in Louis’s throat as the boy blinks slowly, shivering at the feel of Harry’s breath on his bonding spot.

“They’re gonna know.”

♥

            Mostly blind, the Alpha is rigid around the Omega’s soft silhouette. A fire rages in his veins and he’s sweating, disrupting the cold with the heat waves that emanate from his body. The bonding scent is a screaming roar in his nose…and Louis’s skin is the softest flower underneath his mouth.

The front of his trousers pounds, his cock screaming to get out. “Louis?” he whispers into the darkness.

“They’re going to know,” the boy moans again, caught in his own turmoil. Even now his mortification effects Harry no less as his body gives. A wired-out mess, Harry reaches around to grip Louis’s ankle, removing its grip around his waist despite his Alpha’s snarling protests.

Grinding his canines, the Alpha wills them to retract back into his gums, wills his body to listen to his mental commands, and wills the biological needs to yield to reality. The reality is that he’s not knotting this body any time soon.

 _Fuck, I need to get stoned,_ he thinks desperately, or the scent of Louis’s response to him, the slick, waiting flesh _will_ give to his cock soon.

Cursing the Alpha tears away, shoving his hands through his hair, pacing as his skin crawls. Plowing through the snow, Harry almost forgets why he’d stopped in the first place, then there are footsteps, rustles, not far off. “I think they’re this way! Heard Louis screamin’!”

Territorial urges come to life in his chest as Harry turns on his heel and stalks up to Louis, who’s head is bowed, hands tangled, covering his front through the visible stains. Snatching his coat from the snow, Harry smoothes it out, rids it of snow with rough shakes before circling the arms around Louis’s waist, tying them at the back so the front hangs over his crotch. Satisfied, the Alpha picks up his sleeved shirt, shrugging into it, then crushing the boy to his chest, willing his scent to draft out and around the boy, scenting him with his breath, his body.

“They’re still going to smell it,” Louis snivels into his chest.

Humming, the Alpha’s hands gentle on his supple hips. “Good,” he says persuasively into the curve of his ear, “Good.”

“But Liam–,”

“Fuck Liam,” Harry growls, gripping his jaw in one hand, nipping at his ear. “You’re mine. And if I hear one more word about–,”

“Whoa, whoa,” Louis giggles, shoving at his chest, “Down, puppy, down.”

Serious, the Alpha presses, “You’re mine. I don’t care what Liam or Josh or fucking Billy–,”

“Billy? Is that the best you could come up with?” Those eyes dance with that irrepressible amusement again.

“Louis,” Harry mutters when the boy sighs, he continues, “The point is…I don’t care what they think. And you shouldn’t either.”

Smiling softly, the Omega shakes his head, “Baby,” he murmurs, “Oh, baby.”

Frowning, Harry opens his mouth to demand what is up with that, but Louis continues, “I don’t care what _they think._ I care what _I think._ I don’t want to put myself out like that. As easy. An Omegawhore. You know the rules…I’m trying to protect my reputation.”

Because it’ll be in tattered pieces ~~if~~ when they don’t work out if it continues this way, the boy doesn’t say, but it’s in the soft approach he takes. Swallowing, Harry whispers, “It’s just…them.”

Stepping close, the boy lifts one hand, fingertips leaving trails of warmth over his cheek. “Don’t be sad,” he whispers, the sound caresses Harry’s senses with blades. “I won’t _ever_ give up on you. But it doesn’t mean I don’t need to protect myself. I’m with you, Haz, I’m always with you, and I couldn’t ever give up on you.”

Those wide bottomless almost grey eyes are sincere in their depths as Harry stares, a flush coming over his body, cold sweat breaking out on his chest as his stomach rolls. His hands shake uncontrollably as the sudden constriction of his heart jacks his breathing to hell…Christ, he’s begun to hyperventilate soundlessly, just harsh irregular breaths.

Physiological signs of stress, he thinks, lightheaded. Clearly he’s having an emotional reaction, but damn if he can comprehend what it is.

Trapped, the Alpha feels any anger bleed away until it’s nothing but a raw ache in the pit of his stomach. As his eyes sting a fleeting thought comes over him. Louis, who’s always been a flower in his mind, might become some twisted version of a Venus flytrap. Beautiful enough to lure his prey. Strong enough to clamp down and destroy. Poisonous enough to digest his victim’s once emotion connection is made.

The realisation rattles his bones. Panics him like nothing else. _Baby, look what you’ve done to me,_ he thinks in this state.

 Harry swallows, hard. “Promise me,” his voice is gravel. “Promise me you’re not going to give up on me.”

“I promise to never give up on you, Harry Styles,” Louis breathes, that stubborn light an electric storm in his blank gaze. Choosing to believe this, the Alpha crushes the Omega to his chest, locking his arms around his slim waist, burying his nose his Louis’s hair, breathing him in, letting this comfort him as well as the words.

“Don’t break that.”

Louis doesn’t have the chance to respond as someone barrels into their space. “Bloody hell!”

“Fuckin’ shower of cunts!” Niall shrieks, outraged. “We’ve been looking for you two for nearly an hour now!”

“We didn’t hear,” Louis answers, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. Motionless, Harry stays in place, simply listening.

“Bull-fucking-shit! I was shrieking at the top of me lungs. You cunts heard. I’m not daft!”

“Debatable,” he murmurs blandly into Louis’s hair.

“I am freezing,” Zayn comments irrelevantly.

“Nobody cares,” Niall retorts, saying what no one else dares. “Well what’s up with this place?”

“’S a trail,” Harry informs matter-of-factly, kissing Louis’s temple, then leaning down to mouth at the flawless skin of his throat, listening to the little whimper starting in his throat before the boy hisses, “Stop it.”

Overcome by the territorial urges, the Alpha’s teeth sink into the delectable skin and his cock pounds in his trousers as Louis whines, the sound pitched and obedient. Then, Louis’s fingers tighten in his hair, dragging his face away. What happens next stuns him. As he’s dragged away, Louis stumbles backwards, then slaps him across the face, scarily precise. The strike shocks him–shocks everyone.

“I…” Louis breathes, shocked, then angry, then _hurt,_ “I asked you not to do that. And you did it anyway.”

Silent, Harry can’t even think of words. Damn, his cheek stings, and he tastes blood, and his hands are shaking, and his vision fogs with _crimson._

“Hey, Louis!” Niall says, seemingly oblivious though Harry knows the Irish boy witnessed that. Probably knows Harry is about to lose his shit. “C’mere. You have to feel this atmosphere…”

Without raising his eyes, Louis extends a hand toward Niall’s voice, then lets the Irish boy wrap an arm around his waist, towing him away. Josh follows. Liam next. Nobody meets his gaze. Except for Zayn who steps in front of him. The urge to tear through the forest to where the others’ footsteps are fading rages through him as his canines sharpen, and rage lights off like a firestorm in his chest.

A noise forms in his throat–almost a growl, almost choking on it.

Without any indication his best mate does what he hasn’t in a while. Zayn hugs him–slim arms circle his waist, a hand at the back of his head, urging him against his throat. “’S okay, H,” the Omega whispers, nails scratching comfortingly at his scalp, “Shh. Come on. Calm down. ‘S all alright. Don’t break now. You’ll regret it.”

And he realises the noises are still forming in his throat and squeezing his eyes shut Harry forces his mouth shut the same, throat tight. More scratching. “What’s goin’ on in that chaotic head of yours?”

And Zayn is the only other soul (besides Louis) that he’s spoke his feelings to. Nobody else. “I can’t understand anything. I can’t understand _him–_ what he wants and needs and I can’t manage to understand _myself.”_

“Not everything is written like in information manual, H. I know that’s what you’re used to but I’ve told you, babe, you need to reconnect to your emotions.”

“I can’t. I’m trying. But I can’t understand them.”

“Explain that to me.”

“Too many. So many. Can’t grasp them. Fleeting. I need…do you have any blunts on you?”

Retracting, the Omega reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a baggie. “We paid enough to always have some on us, H. Here,” he holds out a professionally rolled, eyes warm and understanding. Pulling the blunt between his lips, the Alpha lets Zayn light for him. Four heavy, long hits later and everything eases, his body calms as his mind does, hazed a bit with the relaxant.

“Better?”

When Harry nods the Omega reaches forward to brush strands of hair from his eyes, stroking where his cheek must be marked. Warm. Lovely. Zayn usually is. Nothing like Louis’s touch, but comforting even so.

“Do you love Liam, Z?”

At this the Omega freezes, then whispers, “I think so. Yes.”

“How did you figure it out?”

“I…I don’t know. Just happened…I guess.”

“Am I in love?” he asks stupidly.

Regarding him with kind, considerate eyes, the Omega murmurs, “If you’re asking, Harry, I think that is answer enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It takes time. Don’t rush it.”

“I don’t have time to not rush it, Z. He needs to hear the words. And I don’t fuckin’ have them…”

“Then he has to wait,” the Omega murmurs, eyes hardening. “Because I know you and you never bend to anyone’s will. And I know Louis and liars are on his no-no list. He’s vulnerable when it comes to that sort of betrayal. You go well together. Stick to your beliefs and morals and who you _are,_ arrogant prick you are. Because Louis is going to want you to, clingy crazy little bastard he is. Trust me, that boy isn’t going anywhere, words or no words.”

As he inhales heavily, the blazing orange tip is the only light source besides the moonlight. “Do you think we would have been better off if we’d never met at all?”

“Are you having doubts?”

“No. He is. He always fuckin’ doubts us.”

“Well then make it so he doesn’t doubt you. You two are better together.”

“Then why,” he starts unsteadily, holding in the smoke, “do I feel like fire’s been set to my insides and it was all good fun for the boy that set it?”

“That’s love, idiot. ‘S not always pretty. And I’m not surprised you’re feelin’ that way. Haz, have you ever realised how _hot_ you run? You’re never warm. You’re never cold. You’re always _hot._ A fire was waiting to happen. Louis is simply the spark. The one to help you reach your full potential.”

“Why are you always so brilliant?” Harry asks, staring now.

“’M not. But I know you. I still see that young, cherub boy glaring at the world. I see that young boy who stifled his fire with calm, collected words. I see that young boy who almost sparked for an observant boy with too many colours and too many pent up words. And then I see a grown Alpha with so many thoughts and emotions he’s been forced to repress surfacing because that sparks finally lit his fire.”

At those words Harry grimaces. “Am I bound to burn then?”

“Are you prepared to?”

“Not at all.”

“Then let the spark go and the fire will burn itself out.”

With it said like that it sounds… _sickening,_ so much so that his ribs constrict painfully and he stops breathing altogether. “That’d be like living without the sun.”

“Are you prepared to?”

“Not at all.”

“Then stop fuckin’ think so much! Find the idiots talking about the damned atmosphere and _be the blaze of glory._ ”

Grasping this, the Alpha passes the blunt, grabs Zayn’s other hand and tows him in the direction the others have disappeared to. Seems someone above is on his side as the pack hasn’t gone far. Just at the end of the stretchy pier, Harry finds them. Josh is draped over Niall, his chin hooked on the Omega’s shoulder, in quiet, melodious (the only time he’s witnessed Ireland being quiet this way) conversation. At the very end of the pier, stretching on, Liam stands beside Louis, the Alpha gazing intensely as the moon (partially hidden by mist and fog) and then there’s his spark, his sun, leaning against the structure with one arm propped on the cherry wood, face in his hand, the other hand tracing patterns into the wood–patterns that must be burned into the untouched structure.

Looking at them now, the two seem like a couple, and _fuck no._ Liam is not for Louis. Without making the conscious decision, he releases Zayn’s hand, storms over to where the two stand, circling the boy’s waist and hoisting him. Ignoring Louis’s shocked gasp, Harry starts back towards the forest, his footsteps heavy on the wooden boards of the pier as he calls to the others, “Meet us back at the manor! Follow the trail!”

Seeming to realise what’s happening, Louis shrieks, beginning to struggle against him. “Let me go, you fool!”

“Not a chance, lovely,” Harry says lightly, continuing to brush past trees, not paying much attention his surroundings though he should as he’s shit with directions.

“You arrogant asshole!’ the boy hisses, kicking his legs, clawing with those well-cared-for nails at his face. Sighing in fond exasperation, the Alpha pauses, maneuvering his lightweight so the boy is draped over his shoulder, grabbing both thin wrists in one hand and pinning them to his lower back, satisfied with Louis's shrieks, “You’re such a…a! Ugh! I am going to slit your throat with you let me go! I am going to cut three inches off your sex-tool and I am going to make sure you can never make love to me again!”

At this the Alpha can’t help but laugh, “Such rage. I think, love, that we both know those three inches are hardly going to keep my ‘sex-tool’ in my pants.”

“Oh they’d _better!_ ” Louis growls–all kittenish rage as he tugs at his arms, trying to free them. “God damn it, Harry Styles! I bloody hate you right now! Release me this instant!”

“I adore you,” Harry replies simply, then, “keep your head down,” as he ducks underneath a protruding branch. As he straightens to his full height, Louis screams, flailing his miniature legs, “You _pms_ like a bitch! Make up your mind already!”

“My mind has been made, kitten,” the Alpha breathes into the darkness, releasing his wrists to bring him to his feet. Unsurprising the Omega tries to slap him, but Harry grabs his wrist fast, then, “Kitten,” he whispers intensely, “Give me ten seconds.”

Louis turns his face, breath fanning out with the cold as he huffs, “Ten seconds. Starting now.”

“I made up my mind a long time ago. At first I didn’t know what I was getting into,” he breathes, rushing through the words. “I thought I’d understood the world. I thought I’d seen all it had to offer. And I never imagined there would be more. Except then there is _you._ And suddenly I’m crashing into you in the hallway. I’m crashing into you in a library. I’m crashing into you in the darkness. And I was scared, I still am, but I give up, I give up on trying to understand what it is about you that changes everything. Because there isn’t one facet, one star, one _person_ in this universe that could possibly hold those answers. Nobody sees what I…what _we_ see…Then again you’re _all_ I see. I’m here. And damn it all I am so bloody relieved that I didn’t have to chase your heart because I couldn’t keep up with you if I tried. But–,”

“Your ten seconds are up,” Louis whispers, lifting one hand to trace over his cheek, the one with the red streak. “We’re the two most complicated people, aren’t we?”

Abruptly Harry catches him around the waist, tugs him in. Mouth parting to release short warm breaths, those eyes flare with Harry’s fire as the Alpha murmurs, “My point is that I’m sorry…” Carefully, Harry dips down so their mouths are flush. Melting against him the boy makes a little noise in the back of his throat, the flames dancing between them and around them as delicate fingers twine in his waves, anchoring them as Louis’s mouth parts in invitation. Stroking his tongue, tasting and taking, their mouths move in perfect unanimity.

When he gathers the will to pull back, the Alpha carries him so close he thinks their heartbeats can be heard in the darkness. “I’m sorry I hit you,” Louis whispers, kissing his jaw. “And when I say I hate you I really always mean I love you. I love you so much.”

The apology catches him off guard. “You love me.” It’s not a question…but it’s still unsure.

“More than anything,” Louis claims. “I’m yours. I don’t care what they say. You can have my body. You already have my heart.” _Always so giving…so young and naïve with himself._

Cupping his face in both hands, Harry breathes fiercely, “No. I won’t act like that again. I was being a dick. I respect you. And I am the one apologising for that.”

And it’s like his entire face brightens, resplendent eyes swimming with sweet nothings and smiles, mouth soft and parted as he kisses the corner of Harry’s mouth, then drags his mouth where Harry craves it, cupping his jaw as their mouths burn against each other, Louis arching into him. “I love you. I could never hate you.”

As his heart guns in his chest, Harry kisses him back softly, pouring his emotions into the contact, languidly kissing him, tasting, savoring. “I never want to hurt you. But sometimes,” he admits, “I see you and you’re all I see. All I know. And I see that you’re mine, that I want you so desperately but there’s no testimony of this…”

“Doesn’t make it any less official.”

“In my head it does.”

“In your brilliant intricate Alpha mind,” Louis giggles, nosing at his cheek, “the words aren’t enough are they?”

And he feels selfish. Selfish and greedy and stupid until, “They’re not enough for me either. I know your Alpha and my Omega think alike. They combine their wicked forces sometimes, too. And sometimes…they win.”

Harry growls softly. “Like when?”

“Almost every time. I know how much effort it must take you to…not take me. And I love you for that…I love you because you’re stronger than your Alpha and you don’t act like the rest of those jerks, and you care about me, not only my Omega. You don’t get angry when I sass you, not really anyway. You let me call the shots sometimes. And you’ve never treated me as you absolute inferior.”

“Because you’re not,” the Alpha murmurs. “You’re not. I adore you because you’re not. You can bring me to my knees with three words, I told you, but I was wrong. You could bring me to my knees with _any_ word. And you could do it to _any other Alpha._ Because they’d grovel at your feet. But you know the difference?”

Louis tilts his head curiously, messy fringe caressing his lashes.

“I won’t be on my knees to grovel,” he whispers seriously, expressing the thoughts that have plagued him since the beginning. “I’ll be on my knees to hold your hips while I pleasure you. To tease you with my mouth until I get to where I want to be, where you’ll want me to be. I’ll be on my knees to make you beg and whimper and scream my name as I taste and I take and I’ll be on my knees to use my tongue against your sweet little hole, and use my fingers to open you up enough that I–,”

“BOO!” someone pounces from the bushes. Louis screams the same instant Harry reacts, shoving the boy behind his body to growl at the intruder. Irish laughter shakes the snow and scares whatever life forms lingered. “Calm your tatas, Haz, that was rich! Scared the hell outta Louis, though! So sorry, babe! I was goin’ for Curly.” Then he storms up to him, pokes him in the stomach with his index finger, “Curse you, Styles. One day I am going to make _you_ scream. Not in pain. Certainly not in pleasure. But in _fear._ ”

Rolling his eyes, the Alpha fights a smirk. “Awe, Ni, am I your favourite?”

“What?! Hell no!”

“Don’t lie,” he continues with a cheeky grin, “You favour me. That’s why I’m always the targeted victim of your Irish plotting. It’s you way of showing you love me.”

“If he loves _you,_ then it’s a bad time to bring out the daggers,” Josh jokes.

“Very bad,” Liam agrees lightheartedly. “But I’m sure we can find you a new Omega, Josh.”

“Wait, who is going to mate Niall, then?’ Louis demands, face peeking from out from Harry’s side, hands to his hips, mouth set adorably, eyebrows raised.

“Harry,” all three say in unison–creepy as it is.

“No way!” the two Omegas shriek, Niall shoving at Harry’s chest, Louis tugging at his shirt. “I like having two Omegas fight over me,” Harry says with a shit-eating grin, but turns to face Louis, looking down at the Omega whose mouth is pursed, the little _v_ between his brows prominent, thoroughly upset. “It’s too bad,” he says, leaning down to nose at Louis’s cheek. “I am very much smitten with this one.”

“That’s right, you’d better be,” Louis mutters, huddling close, cold button nose pressed to the slope of his throat.

“Whipped!” someone sing songs, but Harry isn’t listening to anything but Louis’s purrs.

“Lovestruck.”

“More like horny bastards!”

“Like you’re so innocent,” Harry pauses to shoot back.

“No, but little Louis is and you’re tainting him.”

“Here we go again,” someone else groans.

“’S none of your business, Ni,” Louis mumbles against his skin. “Besides you’ve already tainted me beyond recovery.”

“Pfffft,” Niall snorts. “Trust me, if I had–,” breaking abruptly there are wet sounds of kissing as Liam groans, “Can nobody keep their mouths to themselves? This is worse than watching those two snog!”

“Shut up,” Josh says, voice muffled.

Grimacing, the Alpha pulls away to glance back at the to-be-mated couple, quickly diverting his gaze once he does catches sight of the intense snogging session the two have going on.

Oblivious, Louis shivers, murmuring, “’M freezin’.”

“If the two lovebirds would get a bloody room–,” Harry starts only to be interrupt by Niall’s screeches, “O! You’re such a damned bore! Like you didn’t fuck your way to the top!”

Defensive in seconds Harry tenses, then asks tightly, “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Niall?”

“Oh, you know,” he says, attempting to sound nonchalant. “Taylor! Carrie! Carla! Whatever that bitches name is! Kendall! Nick! Caro–!”

“Where the fuck did you hear that from?” he demands, stepping away from Louis to face the irate Irish boy.

“Yer a whore!” the Irish one snaps simply.

“A whore?” Harry snarls, starting at him. “Where the fuck–?!”

Josh steps between them. “Alright, mate, calm down.”

“Get your Omega in check, _mate,_ ” the Alpha spits back, pressing tight, nose to nose with the other who bares his canines.

“Contrary to what you Council fucks think,” Josh growls back, closing their fraction so they’re practically mouth to mouth, “I don’t control my Omega.”

“Maybe you _should,_ ” he bites back, flashing his elongated canines.

“Harry!” Someone shoves between them, warm and small hands flattening on his stomach, attempting to shove him backwards. Holding his ground, the Alpha ignores the interruption, holding Josh’s almost black gaze, his Alpha clawing at his chest, wanting to prove his dominance.

“Who do you think you are? To tell me how I should treat my Omega? Perhaps I should start in on _you_ about Louis–,”

Snarling, red crowds his vision, “Try it. See where it lands you.”

“Haz! Stop it!” that beautiful, pitchy voice pierces his sense. But he can’t–separating the two Alphas more, Louis rises on his tiptoes, kissing his cheek, soft and gentle calming kisses down his face, meeting his unresponsive mouth, distracting his Alpha with the urge to take care of _another_ desire… “I love you,” the boy breathes in attempts to get his attention. “Please, stop it. Josh is our friend, remember? And so is, Ni, despite his _mouth._ ”

Slowly the rusty gears in his head shift, the pleading words sliding past the cogwheels of his Alpha. Desperate to find reason again, Harry buries his face in the Omega’s throat, arms snaking around his waist, clinging to him. Clinging because he needs the warmth only Louis provides, and he misses the soft figure against him, and _fuck_ he’s only just beginning to realise how quickly he’s come to rely on the healing properties of his Omega, his Louis.

Understanding the boy smoothes back his mane, runs his delicate fingers through the thick waves, and Harry listens to his own heart beat a strange, mad beat that sounds far too fast to be human.

“’S okay, Alpha,” the boy sighs a small breath, “Niall was simply bein’ Niall. Nobody needs protecting. ‘S just the lads. I’m okay. Alpha is okay. Everyone is _okay._ ”

“Okay,” the Alpha lowers his guard. “You’re okay. Long as you’re okay.”

“I am fine,” the Omega assures, “But Alpha should apologise to Josh.”

Tension stiffens his shoulders. “What.”

“Apologise.”

Growling the Alpha tears away, “Why do I have to–?”

“Alpha!” the Omega says in that scolding way, blue eyes swimming with the same scolding. “Please. Just apologise.”

And he has every intention of telling the Omega to take the piss, but then he remembers his words, _“Only make me happy and protected and safe,”_ and _damn it._ Releasing a shaky breath, Louis’s panic crawls down Harry’s throat, thick and dark, staining his core. And a small hand trembles over his mouth; those eyes lowering like Harry didn’t already catch the panic lurking in those bottomless depths.

On their own accords his legs start towards where Josh is also wrapped in his Omega. When he gets close the Alpha grabs Niall by the arm and tries to drag him so he’s behind him but the boy struggles, “O! Cut that out! It’s just Froggy. There’s nothing to protect me from, dolt!”

Swallowing, the Alpha stops before them, drops onto one knee, and bows his head. Someone inhales sharply–probably Liam as he’s the only one who can make sense of the magnitude Harry’s actions. It takes _every ounce of willpower_ to go against his animal and do this, to expose himself in this manner. Alpha’s simply do not give up their dominance, do not expose themselves…unless they’ve wronged to the point of disrespect. “I offer my most sincere apologies,” he mutters ardently. “If you would have it, I offer an amercement. I would request forgiveness if–,”

“Oh, shut the hell up!” Niall mutters, and then he’s being tackled to the snow in an embrace. “I’m sorry I acted out and ran my blabber mouth. And that I instigated all of that.”

Careful, unused to contact like this unless with Louis or Zayn, the Alpha hugs him back, then breathes, “You did. But I shouldn’t have gotten so touchy.”

“Yeah, probs not. But it’s okay. You’re just twitchy ‘cause Louis smells like a damned perfume department in the mall.”

“Alright, alright,” Josh grumbles, crouching to grab Niall by the frail shoulders. “I am breaking up this little touchy-feely bit.”

Letting up, Harry takes his arms back, sitting up to offer an almost contrite smile to Josh. “Truce?”

“We’re cool,” and the grin he’s sporting says enough. “Even though you’re a twat, I’m just the same.”

Relieved to not have bad blood, Harry stands, shaking snow from his hair, then smoothing it back. As he’s doing so the Alpha notices that Zayn and Liam are pleasantly lost in their own world, gazing like they are each other’s miracles. Grimacing, he kicks snow in their direction, chuckling when Zayn yelps, flinching from the cold and then glaring with murder, starting towards him.

Outright laughing now, the Alpha goes to Louis, standing behind him to hook an arm around his chest, “One more move and the Omega goes.”

Against him Louis giggles then plays along, sniveling dramatically, “Z-Z-Zayn, please, don’t do…this.”

“Morons,” the Omega hisses, rolling his eyes, then grinning. “Sorry, Lou, I simply have to.” When his best mate takes another step forward, Harry grabs Louis beneath the thighs, lifting him easily and taking multiple steps backwards, towards the hooded forest.

“Nooo!” Louis moans, stretching his little arms. “How could you?!”

“How indeed,” Harry murmurs darkly, then breathes to Louis, “You’re misunderstanding the situation entirely. I am the one you want to stay with little one.”

Against his chest Louis shakes his head, “No! Want my Zaynie! Zaaaayn, save me!” Lost in the depthless ocean of Louis’s eyes the Alpha doesn’t notice the others approaching him until someone grabs Louis and yanks so hard that his grip is lost as the two boys go sprawling into the snow. Giggling, Louis shrieks, “Zayn!” and embraces the other boy excitedly, “I knew you’d come for me! My dark knight!”

Rolling his eyes, Harry decides there is no stopping these three Omegas. They’re opinionated, stubborn, quiet, loud, beautiful, annoying, perfect. They’re unconquerable. And together they’re their own Omega Superpower.

♥

            It’s when the Alpha is brushing snow from his back that Louis recalls the drying, gross sensation against his front and his thighs. Flushing to the tips of his ears, Louis whispers, “Haz.”

“Yes,” Harry murmurs distractedly, shaking out the coat to tie it around his waist again. So caring…Louis’s throat tightens as his heart swells with love.

“I…I need…” but it’s nearly inaudible.

A howl breaks out and jumpy as his is, Louis startles, then realises after Niall begins to cackle, that the Irish boy has become part wolf apparently.

“Yes, petal?”

“I…I’m still…sticky,” he whispers, blushing furiously.

Pausing, the Alpha asks warily, “Sticky?”

Sighing, the Omega mumbles, “You know…don’t there.”

“Oh,” Harry murmurs slowly, then finishes up hastily. “Fuck. That’s right. Kitten is milky.”

Louis giggles, even embarrassed. “You’re gross!”

“Disgusting.” Without giving him a chance to answer the Alpha intertwines their gloved fingers. “C’mon then, petal. Can’t have you any less comfortable.”

Giggling, the Omega ignores the confused calls from the others as Harry guides them back towards his house, or as he calls it “the manor”. Silly boy. As they walk, hands swinging between them Louis mules over the title, wondering why Harry refuses to call the house he’s grown up in home. But Harry’s mind is really a chaotic mess of thoughts that Louis has yet mustered the courage to delve into…and perhaps, for now, that’s for the best.

Inside, Harry leads him upstairs, into his bedroom, then closes the door behind him. The locks bolt. A shiver runs up his spine as Harry walks about, clumsy wreckage in the making. A moment passes when he disappears into what must be the connecting bath. There’s the sound of rushing water, then Harry returns to place a warm, damp cloth in his right hand, and a change of clothes in the next. Louis flushes, closing his hands around both to the best of his ability. “I’ll go. Have to piss anyway.”

Biting his lip, Louis shakes his head. “N-No…You can…stay. If you want…you can look.”

Goose bumps rise on his skin when the Alpha’s intense gaze lands on him, and Louis keeps his gaze wide, expressing that it’s really okay, but Harry chuckles. “No. I know your little scheme. I am leaving.”

Licking at his bottom lip, Louis bats his lashes, “I don’t know what you mean, Alpha.”

A breath hitches, then Harry breathes, stroking his cheek, leaving a trial of heat. “Oh, kitten. My pretty kitten is going into heat soon, wants to tempt me, yeah?” he leans forward, mouth brushing Louis’s ear, “Perk your ass out a bit more for me, and puppy might get thirsty.”

Mouth parting at the dirty words, Louis struggles to breathe, hope blooming in his chest, “You…You said you…wouldn’t touch me like that…again.”

“And ‘m not goin to.” And then he walks away, closing what must be the bathroom door, leaving Louis floundering in a daze. Slowly, disoriented, the Omega strips and uses the damp cloth to wipe at his sensitive area, and his thighs, then carefully against his bum, breath catching at the sensation of something touching there while he’s still _wanting it._ Hastily, he makes sure no sticky or wet is left and he’s cleaned, then slides into the tight pants, grimacing all the while before shimmying into what must be Harry’s trousers. They’re loose, but they fit even baggy, and he sits on the mattress, feet hovering above the carpet. “Haz!” he calls.

Joining him again, the Alpha hums until Louis demands the trousers need to be rolled up and his booties need to be found (as he’d rather his feet be warm). After some searching the Alpha shouts, “Aha!” then returns, “Got ‘em. One was in the Jacuzzi?”

“Weird,” Louis murmurs, trying to remember when that could’ve happened, then recalling the argument they’d had days prior when he’d thrown it. When the Alpha laughs, “I think I recall it was thrown at me.”

Louis bites back a smile to murmur haughtily, “Well my feet can’t wait all day. Chop chop.” Sighing, the Alpha rolls up the trousers, whispers, “Always wear my clothes. They’re perfect for you.” Until Louis _is_ smiling, and the booties are on each foot. “There!” he sounds so satisfied that Louis giggles, hopping up and planting a wet kiss to his cheek. “Love you, baby.”

When the Alpha grumbles something _embarrassed,_ Louis giggles again, then, “Mum says I can stay here tonight, yeah?”

“Took a lot of puppy eyes, and persuading, but yeah, last two days of break.”

Grinning, Louis brightens, in love with Harry’s ability to sway even his Mother into allowing such things. When they’re downstairs the others have seemed to make themselves at home in what must be the lounge. The telly is playing loudly, but it sounds like a video game as little, furious clicks sound and Niall curses, yells and hoots.

Upon their entrance the others greet them halfheartedly. Shrugging, Louis curls up with Harry on the seemingly vacated sofa. In his lap, Louis toys with his fingers, comforted, at peace as he kisses his jaw chastely. “Let’s talk about the colour green. Describe it to me.”

And so Harry does–he talks slowly about the smell of early footie games, the pain when you’re fighting someone you love, Christmas trees, summer leaves, grassy plains and envious feelings that leave you breathless–the feeling when someone has something you do not, something you want more than anything else.

By the end, Louis _knows_ that the green he envies is the sight of Harry’s green stare.

♥

            “Camping!”  
“Camping?” the Alpha asks, entering the lounge again with a tray of beers, requested by none other than Ireland.

“Camping,” Louis chirps, curled up where Harry had left him. Catching sight of him like this, Harry’s first instinct is to carry him up to bed, because the soft, sweet kittenish eyes are fuzzy with impending sleep, and his loose little body conveys the same.

Placing the drinks on the centre table, the Alpha takes his seat beside the boy, strokes the fringe from his face. “We’re going camping!” he declares with smiles in those eyes.

“We are? When?”

“Hell yes we are! Tonight is the night!” Ireland answers cheerily.

“Why?” the Alpha asks, unable to share the attraction.

The Irish one looks at him like he’s grown two heads, the widescreen telly on the far wall paused, but illuminating his face. “It’s the last night to sleep in until break before the ceremony in a week! We might as well have some proper bonding time over a campfire! Besides, I’ve never gone camping so.”

“Neither have I? Nor do I feel the need to.”

“I haven’t either,” Louis mumbles, eyes closed now, lashes casting shadows. “But I wanna.”

“Then it’s a date!” Niall says easily. “Now we need gear!”

“We’ll get it!” Louis offers kindly, sitting up despite Harry’s impulse to lay him back down and cuddle him into sleep. _Fuck,_ does Harry want some alone time with him again…Needs all the time he can have before the next three weeks are up. “Only if it’s okay with Hazza, though.”

Honestly, with these two, what fucking choice is there?

♥

            “I don’t see why this is necessary,” Harry mutters as the engine purrs to life. “When we have perfectly comfortable beds to sleep in.”

“We need to reconnect with Mothernature, Haz,” Louis murmurs sagely, biting his bottom lip against a smile.

As the vehicle reverses smoothly the Alpha growls under his breath–the sound that melts Louis’ insides as the boys trembling hand is encased by Harry’s larger one. “I am sure Mothernature has better things to do than entertain a lot of noisy teenage boys.”

“Haz,” Louis laughs, fiddling with the buttons at the door until the window lowers. “You need to get out more. You’re beginning to sound like my nan.”

“Your nan is a lovely, brilliant woman,” Harry responds lightly.

Louis giggles. “You don’t even know her!”

“I don’t have to,” is his only response before he’s toying with the dials, heat drafting from the vents though Louis’s window brings in brisk, frosty air that still numbs his face. The cooling sensation keeps the warmth pooling in his belly from spreading to his veins as the Omega leans into the seat, music flooding the vehicle, _“I need you so much closer…”_

Much to his satisfaction the drive stretches so he’s given time to listen to Harry’s voice, humming along to each song. His voice is rough, throaty, deep, the perfect lullaby in comparison to Louis’s high, uneven tune. A long while passes like this until Louis is curled up small in the passenger side, fiddling with the length of Harry’s fingers.

Too soon the ride ends, and the Alpha rounds the car to open his door, grabbing his hand again to help him out. Bootie’s sinking into the snow, the Omega loses balance, but Harry’s arm circles his waist, and then he’s stretching on his very tiptoes to meet the Alpha’s mouth–warm, sweet, loving. A gentle fire warms his veins as Louis shivers, arms wrapping around Harry’s neck, fingers threading in his thick waves.

“We’re going camping tonight,” Louis claims excitedly against his mouth.

“We are,” the Alpha’s voice is a mere husky breath as the kiss is broke. One arm secures around his waist as Harry walks them through the snow of the lot, then they’ve entered the warmth of the store.

“Haz, Haz, Haz!” Louis thrills, excitement humming to life in his veins as he tugs on the Alpha’s arm. “Will you push me in the cart?! Please!”

Without reason the Alpha laughs–the loud throaty cackle that Louis’s loved from the beginning. And it feels like forever since he’s heard it, since Harry’s let his guard down again, but now Louis’s heart melts. “Hey!” he mumbles, trying to seem put out as he fights another grin, crossing his arms. “What’s so funny?”

“We’re somethin’ outta those romance films,” the Alpha provides before continuing to laugh boyishly until warmth is fuzzy underneath the Omega’s skin.

“C’mon,” his Omega surfaces, more depth in his words, no longer referring to the carts as he closes the insignificant distance between them, resting his head on the Alpha’s chest, listening intently to the steady melody of his heartbeat. “Just give into me,” he continues, lashes fluttering as the laughter fades into nonexistence.

“Okay,” the rough edge to Harry’s voice tells him he also isn’t referring to the carts. “The babe gets what the babe wants.”

Thrilled, Louis tears away, shifting his weight from foot to foot as Harry retrieves the cart. As he’s returning Louis bares his eyes, chewing on his bottom lip until, “Alright, in you go,” Harry murmurs, supporting his weight so Louis gracefully sits in the tight space. Beaming, the Omega breathes, “To the outdoorsy stuff, slave!”

“Your vocabulary is impeccable,” the Alpha teases but he’s rolling him around and Louis wonders what others must see, looking at them being idiotic in love teenage boys in a Convenience store.

“’M the babe here!” Louis reminds. “I say what I want.”

“Yes, you very well are,” Harry murmurs so warm that Louis shivers, thawing as they are set in motion. “So, Haz,” the Omega starts conversationally as they round corners.

“Yes, petal.”

“Petal is hungry.”

A low, protective growl steals the silence as the cart grounds to a halt. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Victim to the scolding, Louis mumbles, “I’m sayin’ so now.”

Sighing in what seems like annoyance, the Alpha asks, “Where would you like to eat?”

“Here,” the Omega claims. “I want…junk food.”

Just like that they’re back in motion, and there’s so much; the Alpha tosses all sorts of food and reluctantly Louis munches until he’s sipping on sweet tea and smiling. “Can we share a sleeping bag tonight?”

“I’d planned on it.”

“Wicked!” Louis chirps, and then proceeds to shake a can of Cola and direct the fizzing substance at Harry. Under his attack the Alpha laughs, “Louis!” and he’s so pleased when Harry starts speeding the cart and rolling with it, and acting like the teenage boy he _is._ And it’s almost like they’re normal–out of all the places they find their Zen, their normality, in a Convenience store.

♥

            “I didn’t actually think you’d do it!” Louis giggles in delight, draped over Harry’s back, light bags of unknown materials around his wrists as Harry carries the heavier loads, including him, with his arms around the Alpha’s shoulders, legs tight around his middle.

“I’m Superfrog.”

“Super _puppy,_ ” Louis corrects, “with his sidekick Kittenpetal.”

“Partners in crime.”

“Crime, you say? Say you? Whichever,” Louis giggles, the breeze toying with Harry’s waves, tickling his face in the best ways. “Now I wanna know…what’s the _most rebellious_ thing you’ve done?”

“Oh, ya know, littered,” he attempts to make light of it, but Louis knows and understands the way his shoulders tense says more than Harry ever intentionally will.

“C’mon,” Louis presses softly. “Tell me.”

“We talkin’ violence?” Harry asks circumspectly as the sound of one of the garage doors lift is low, mechanical around them. “Or simply stupid?”

Louis makes a wary face, then says slowly, “Let’s start with…stupid.”

“Alrighty,” the Alpha murmurs, pace quickening, like he’s trying to escape Louis’s curiosity. “So around fifteen and into sixteen up until seventeen mainly, I started hanging with this crowd, yeah? ‘Cause I have the money, the title, and I’m apparently desired goods.”

“That’s hardly why,” Louis denies, saddened to think Harry actually believes nobody wants or likes him for who he is inside. How absurd.

Laughing quietly, Harry murmurs, “You wouldn’t understand how power-hungry people are, love.”

And though Louis wants to say he’s not a _child,_ and very well _does understand,_ he’s not so sure he _does._ Because Harry’s been raised in an entirely unfamiliar environment compared to Louis. “Well,” he continues easily, “Let’s just say it wasn’t difficult to fit right in. They welcomed me quite…warmly.” Louis scrunches his face at the double meaning in those words. _Real warm I’m sure,_ his Omega hisses, prickling with what must be jealousy. “I mean they weren’t the best people, but they were…chill and they were like me: lost, angry, and a bit self-pitying. Except they were free, and damn did I want that–there’s green again, lovely.” How someone like Harry could’ve been envious (green) is beyond him.

“Anyway, we’re in this club in Manhattan, New York. Like a Gentleman’s club, except the basement area was a different sort of scene, all sorts of people there. Real posh,” they pause, stilling at what must be the door. “Nice place though, Jacuzzis, pools, drinks, music, beautiful people, the likes. Eventually we…well…we take some er…people,”

Louis narrows his eyes, his Omega screaming with an unlikely surge of rage, connecting directly to his mouth, “ _Whores_.”

“Sassy tonight,” the Alpha sounds more amused now, which his Omega hisses at, not amused at all. “Anyway, we all go to the upstairs rooms, actually we were all going to the room…together.”  _Ew!_ his Omega turns away, refusing to listen to this now and Louis’s mouth forms a perfect, shocked _O_ before he sputters, “What?! But…With…” until finally settling on, “How many?”

“Like…ten. Had to keep it even,” he sounds so sheepish that Louis flushes too, “No worries. Always wrapped it up. Can’t trust that crowd with your treasure.” At Louis’s little disgusted noise, the Alpha laughs until Louis can manage to speak again, “Even like…five Alphas, five Omegas? Ugh, Haz, that’s so gross. Orgas…What’s that word? Orgy? Ew.” Again, Harry laughs, “God no, like four Alphas, six Omegas. And don’t knock it till you try it, kitten.”

Louis makes another face. “Oh please, like you don’t lose your shit when an Alpha even _looks._ I can’t imagine how you’d react with four Alphas naked around and with me.”

“I’d kill them.” The possessive glow to his words as his Omega softening a bit–but only a bit.

“But I’m expected to be okay knowing you were with all these other Omegas? You have the luxury of knowing no other Alpha has had me. I do not. Then to find out you’ve been in _orgies_ with Alphas _and_ Omegas?”

“Are you jealous, kitten?”

“You keep it in your pants unless it’s _for me._ Got it? Okay, good.”

“Bossy!”

“Three inches,” he reminds, irritated. “Otherwise…”

“I don’t want anyone else, Lou. There’s no need to threaten me.”

Satisfied, Louis smiles, then purrs, “Okay, only me. You’re only allowed to have me and love me and take care of me. I’m special.”

“Ditto, baby. This isn’t an open relationship. Commitment. I’ve never committed before, but I won’t have any problems doing so with you. I will be faithful to you. Always.”

Melting, Louis thinks he might become a puddle in the snow at the promise. With his heart in his eyes, the Omega nuzzles his throat. “My first and only, Haz. I won’t ever want anyone else, either.”

“Fidelity. One less detrimental aspect to LouisandHarry.”

“Success!” he lifts one fist, smiling so wide his cheeks ache. “Okay. Now was there an actual point to your rambling story?”

“I was getting to it,” the Alpha murmurs, a note of fondness to his voice. When Louis stays quiet, he does so, “Right well. We’re in this room. And one of the Omegas, thin, tall blonde with wild blue eyes, not as pretty as yours of course was my…er…pick.” At the choice of words Louis winces, then shakes his head, allowing him to carry on, “I thought he was…Yeah, well, I was interested. But then he tells me to wait, disappears, and returns with this trolley of hoards of drugs. I’m talkin’ stacks and stacks of zippys. So, he has me choose one of the bags at random. It was like a game, I suppose. Just randomly pick one. Have to do it. No turning back. Turns out it was Coke.” _Like cocaine?_

Uneasy knots form in his tummy as the blood drains from his face. “So the bloke, Jason, has this new light to his eyes, and he made me feel like I’d given him the sun. Made me feel _fucking amazing for doing something myself, only me. I made him smile like that. All me._ Up until that point…nobody had, not with an actual…interest. But it was funny, because he was _way more into the drugs._ I’ll get to that later. Anyway they set up this platform. Spread lines. Everyone had to sniff two. Then smoke it as well.”

“D-Did you?” the words are appalled without Louis meaning them like that.

“Yeah. Of course. I mean I was fifteen, and _stupid_ enough to think I’d found a soulmate to make happy all on my own. So of course I did, I mean why not. Looked fun. First time was a bit painful. But it numbed once I kept going. Took about four lines that night. And at first it was an amazing rush. So I kept it going for those years.”

“What about Jason?” he asks tightly.

“Well we were good…mates for a while afterwards. But he wanted the drugs more than anything else, which was cool ‘cause I did too. It was a mutual benefit sort of thing. But when he wanted Zayn _out of our picture,_ well that wasn’t ‘bout to happen. Zayn’s been my _family,_ all that I had, so that was over when I was sixteen. So I said _fuck it,_ don’t need him to get drugs, had tons of dealers lined up. So, ditched Jason. At this point I was hooked.”

“Why did you stop then?” the Omega asks shakily.

“I don’t like being dependent on anything. And when I found myself in bed…desperate for a fix I started to realise what I was becoming. And then Zayn took it up with me until when I _just_ turned seventeen. When you’re high school is hard to maintain, and the crashes are _worse,_ so then there were lectures from Zayn’s parents, a lot of trouble. My Father was becoming pissy after the third lock up, which _sucked,_ mainly because of the craving for a fix. Man, I’d done it to us then. It feels like forever ago. But it really wasn’t. And we looked…ruined. Tattered, torn, like Jason. Who turned up dead months later at twenty three. Overdosed, shot up too much heroin. I didn’t want that to be Zayn one day…”

Tears spear his eyes as Louis whispers, “Only Zayn?” _Oh Haz…no…you matter too._

“I didn’t care where I ended up,” the Alpha murmurs simply. “I had no reason to, would’ve been a long time coming. But I refused to be one of those tragedies…So I stopped.”

Louis is certainly no expert on drugs…but that sounds so easy…too easy. “You did that from fifteen to seventeen and then just _stopped?_ ”

“You don’t need all the depressing details.”

Louis swallows, shakes his head. “Yes I do. How bad was it?”

A heartbeat flutters by, then, “Bad enough that I still want it. I mean, I want to feel…Yeah. But I’m content now. I found something else to crave. And I started funding the drug dealers, got them help too, you know. Decent jobs, rehab, whatever. I didn’t want another Jason; though it’s beyond my control I try. No kid, especially not at fifteen, needs to start that shit. As long as they’re not selling, they’re living…comfortably. I check up on ‘em from time to time, or have someone else do it rather. Make sure they’re not abusing or anything. But I mean what can you do? You are the only one who can decide what goes on with you. As for me…I decided after depressing nights, starving but unable to eat from the last weeks fixes, laying in bed shaking and sweating until I felt like…It wasn’t a pleasant experience. Nobody needs to start on that shit.”

 _Oh…no…No, they don’t, Haz._ “And Z?”

“Luckily,” there’s a smile in his voice now. “Malik wasn’t taking hardcore as I was. The effects weren’t …weren’t the same. Still uncomfortable. But he was over the withdrawal after a week or so. I’m sure the temptation is still there. I’m confident, though, that he hasn’t done it again ever since. He promised. I stop, he stops.” _Thank God._ Gratefulness swells inside him, and he wants to rush inside and thank Harry’s best mate for watching over him when his Alpha wouldn’t do it himself.

“What…What about h-h-heroin?”

“Fuck no. Never even _tried_ it. Saw that shit. Looked fuckin’ disgusting–toxic piss or somethin’.”

Releasing a relieved breath, Louis relaxes a bit. “No drugs ever again, yeah? Or at least no…hardcore drugs. I know you guys get high. I want to get high. Like…with marijuana. But only that.”

At this the Alpha barks warm laughter. “Sure, sure.”

“Seriously!”

When Harry laughs again, shoving the entrance open, Louis pouts, but drops it (for now) as the others grumble, “finally!"

“Heey!” Harry complains in that long, pouty voice. “We hurried.”

Louis blushes at the lie, but doesn’t comment because Niall snorts, “Louis’s blush is definitely sayin’ otherwise.”

Embarrassed the Omega buries his face in Harry’s shoulder. Tossing the materials, Harry mutters, “Get your camp shit. Louis’s holding the snacks. There are chocolates, Graham crackers, marshmallows, hotdogs, and some other junk, chosen by–,”

“Yours truly!” Louis finishes, smiling smugly, lifting his hands a bit so the bags rustle. Set on his feet, Louis lets the Alpha collect their stuff before leading them upstairs to his room. There, he fidgets excitedly when the Alpha gathers extra layers, helping him into another coat, a beanie, a scarf, double socks, and then his booties again. Then carefully tests the texture of his gloves until Louis sighs, “Anything else, Masta?”

Adjusting his beanie, Harry straightens, “Nope. I think that’s all. You look adorable. I am very pleased.”

At the compliment, heat kisses his cheeks, and he smiles shyly, “Thank you.” From there he rustles about, seemingly adding clothing to his body too, before taking him downstairs with a backpack hanging from his shoulder.

“Can’t we just sleep here?”  Zayn asks unhappily.

“Yeah,” Harry backs him up, dragging their bags somewhere.

“You two are such stereotypical Omegas,” Niall mutters around a mouthful of what must be food. “I don’t wanna ruin my hair, I don’t wanna sleep outside ‘cause it’s scary! Toughen up, idiots. Life ain’t getting no easier, might as well enjoy cheese toasties and smores by the campfire whilst you’re young and I won’t toss you into the pit meself. So yeah enjoy it while yer young.”

“And beautiful,” Louis pipes, batting his lashes up at Harry.

“I think we’d best set foot before it starts snowing again,” Liam suggests wisely, then, “Everyone has a flashlight, yeah? And glow sticks?”

“Not me!” Louis protests, pouting.

“You don’t need–,”

“Here, petal,” Harry cuts in protectively, and Louis loves him more than sight surely. “I bought you one so you can shut the hell up Z.” Beaming, the Omega whispers, “I love you.”

“Alright, now grab ya shit,” Josh murmurs, “Let’s go.”

Outside Louis is tucked into Harry’s side, darting his flashlight pointlessly (but happily) as they walk on the concrete leading into what must be the woods. “Alright, so at the end of this trail there are two paths to follow. We’re taking the second one, to the left, towards the pier. And then we’ll set camp near there at a decent spot.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Liam says in approval.

“Long as Li approves,” Zayn murmurs fondly.

“So how far we talkin’?” Niall asks, still munching.

“Not very far. Same mile as earlier.”

“This is going to be a long walk.” 

“You wanted to camp so badly. Well here we fuckin’ are,” Zayn growls.

Louis sighs, pressing his nose to Harry’s chest, inhaling to sooth the tension as they walk. It’s a long while until, “I think this is working!” Niall claims. “Cheeto trail will guide us home!” ‘

Amused, Louis giggles, “Ni! Somethin’ is going to eat those.”

“Not if they’re smart they won’t. These are _flaming hot_ Cheetos.”

So endeared, Louis giggles again, fluttering his gloved fingers at the other Omega. “You’re flaming hot.”

“You flirtin’ with me, Tommo?” Niall gasps, then laughs in delight. “Where did you even learn to flirt? Takin’ notes from Styles, are we?”

“I do not flirt,” Harry murmurs sternly.

Everyone laughs, even Zayn. “Your _smile,_ ” the Omega says, “is a flirt.” Louis grimaces at this comment, but it fades into a smile when Harry replies cheekily, “Can’t help that I’m irresistible.”

“Irresistible,” Liam scoffs.

“Irresistible as can be,” the Omega breathes, nosing at his scarf again.

“You’re too kind, petal,” the Alpha mutters, and Louis thinks he’s never kind enough…but he’s _trying._ The walk seems to last ages as the boys banter back and forth, and Louis laughs at Harry and Niall’s every retort, fonder than ever. Soon, after much complaining from Zayn and Liam, they walk through shrubs and trees and other unknowns until Niall proclaims, _“Destination found!”_

Sighing in relief, Louis touches his numb cheeks, shivering as his teeth chatter. “Styles! Take care of that! Poor thing is freezing!”

“Is it too cold for you, baby?” Harry asks softly.

“No!” Louis protests, sniveling around chattering teeth, “I’ll b-b-be f-f-fine once t-t-there is a f-fire.”

“Well, lucky thing there’s tons of wood–has someone _camped here before?”_

 “Nah. I think before the season they’d been cutting excess wood or something.”

“Oh. Huh. Anyway, there’s tons of wood and we brought lighter fluid, matches, and what not, there’s even a mobile _manual_ on how to start fires otherwise I don’t know what we’d do!” Liam rambles happily.

Louis laughs, grinning in his best mate’s direction, “Brilliant, Li!”

“I can’t have you cold all the time before that, you’ll catch another cold and your body doesn’t need any more to deal with right now,” the Alpha mutters grimly enough that Louis frowns as there’s the sound of a zipper, then he’s being wrapped around by a blanket, and Harry crushes him to his chest. Louis has the sneaking suspicion Harry wasn’t appreciating the attention Louis spared Liam as the Alpha pays special attention to scenting him. Which makes Louis a bit annoyed…but he really is freezing and Harry is this blessed space-heater. Against him, the Omega huddles, shivering as the warmth soaks up in his pores, and the scent intoxicates his senses. So much happiness the proximity brings us, Louis thinks, awed.

A while they set up, and occasionally Harry will leave him to help, and Louis will curl up tight around the blankets, a burrito, grinning happily at having to do _nothing at all._ Much fumbling passes until they’ve set up two tents, and then it’s time for the fire. Excitedly, Louis _does_ try to help, trying to carry the wood with the others, but having Liam carry most of the weight, mumbling excitedly, “We’re doin’ it the Tommo way!” And then promptly knocking the entire structure down, listening to Zayn call him an “idiot” fondly, around Niall’s snickers. Not very embarrassed, the Omega decides this camping charade is not for him, and has Niall take him back to the foldable seats while the others finish the work.

When it’s _finally_ over, Harry mutters, “Bloody hard work, camping is. Looks easier in the films.”

Louis sighs haughtily. “Of course, Harry! Even _I know that all that is staged!”_

Bringing him close to the fire, Louis curls into Harry’s side the best he can in the seats, the warmth of the fire wafting out over them as his face warms, and he smiles in relief.

“Well…now what?” Liam asks kindly.

“This isn’t scripted, Li,” Louis mumbles, “I’m hungry! Let’s make smores!” Hungry again, Louis thinks, irritated as his hand unconsciously finds his tummy, eyebrows furrowed. But at the same time the Alpha grabs his hand, strokes his knuckles, leans in to whisper, “You’re beautiful. Stop thinkin’ otherwise.”

“Wooo!” Niall howls, and promptly starts teaching everyone how to make them until Louis is stuffing his face with mostly chocolate (his latest addiction), listening to the others snicker over, “ _roasting weenies”_ happily.

Late hours of the night they continue to talk, sharing scary stories that aren’t very scary at all, ranging from Harry as an Omega, alien invasions, and Bigfoot destroying their camp and taking Liam hostage. When Harry asks why Liam, Niall answers pertly, “’Cause he’s most like his cousin Bigfoot, duh! They’re relatives!” And Louis scolds him for picking on Liam so much, blowing kisses in the Alpha’s direction until Harry places a possessive hand on his thigh, and Louis sticks his tongue out at his domineering Alphaboy. But then he realises that were it possible for Louis to catch Harry blowing kisses at another Omega, he’d do the same, as well as throw an unattractive sassfit. Because his Alpha is _his,_ and that is reason enough.

More time continues with Louis yawning, struggling to keep his eyes open until Harry declares, “Time for sleep!”

“Yeah, it’s like three in the morning and school starts soon so let’s get to sleep, lads,” Liam seconds, and it’s comforting that every Alpha ushers their Omega into the tents. Inside Louis let’s Harry tuck him into the sleeping bag, joining him when Louis makes room, until his nose is pressed to Harry’s collar and blankets cocoon them.

There in their little tent, the Omega whispers, “I love you more than snow loves the winter.”

“That’s a new one,” Harry murmurs, nosing at his hair.

“Mmm,” the Omega hums, thinking _I believe in magic, because only magic could be responsible for you,_ “Yes. And you’re more beautiful that the light.” With those words a short sleep captures him.

♥

            Once he’s sure his Omega is sound asleep the Alpha carefully, slowly unzips the sleeping bag and slips out it’s confines with little struggle, tucking the material in. Through careful movements, he presses one chaste kiss to his forehead, unzips the tent partway, slithers through the opening, leaving it like that in case Louis wakes again. Outside the fire continues to blaze, a constant force, the snacks are carefully packed in the bundle off to the corner of Niall’s tent, and it’s so quiet with everyone asleep, tucked safely by sleep, each Alpha doing what he should be doing.

_‘Love doesn’t exist’._

Ice invisibly needles his skin as Harry pivots on his heels, scattering snow, stupidly thinking his Father’s somehow found the camp. Of course he hasn’t, the male’s on business in Austria, and he’d already claimed they’re in need of “a little chat”, but somehow the distance doesn’t fucking assure him. Again his gaze finds his tent, he thinks of the Omega depending on him, _trying for him…_

Swallowing with difficulty due to the frost lining his throat, Harry starts away, aware of what he’s leaving behind. Towards the downward slope, and onto the trail again until reaching the pier–his ears begin to ring so forcefully that all other noise is drowned out, turmoil overcoming him.

Unconsciously, he lifts his hands to find they’re shaking uncontrollably. And they’re sweaty underneath the gloves. _Stress_. Unaccustomed to this sensation, the Alpha doesn’t know how to handle it, or why it’s causing a reaction only _now_ (God knows he’s harbored enough stress in this lifetime to crumble mountains and statues and _people_ ), but sums up _every bit of taught self-disciple_ to ignore the reaction, in search of the basis behind it as he descends the slope, listens to nothing but his footsteps, pounding, rushing. And sticks cracking underneath his mad stroll. Nature is so _loud._

_‘Love doesn’t exist.’_

To shut out the blasted thought, his teeth clench, and he stares blindly ahead, angry at the fact that he has no idea why the bloody line is coming back to him _now._

But, fuck, he’s not up to twenty-questions.

Down the pier he continues, trying hard to pinpoint his center, to think without that…feeling in his chest, fisting his heart cruelly. Somehow he reaches the end of the pier, a spacious deck, looking out over the frozen solid manmade lake, to the trees beyond, the murky moonlit sky. Unfazed by the sight, he leans on the railing, and rests his hand in his hands as memories pull his thoughts in every which way, pulling, tugging, _taking._

_Arguing. They’re arguing once again–it’s become habitual by now, every other night or so when Mum brings them back from those resorts. And Harry’s never been more bothered–not when he couldn’t get those ruddy keys down during his piano lessons, not when he reads the Councils’ ancient, incomprehensible to any child’s mind (even his mind which his Mum claims to be intelligent beyond his years–whatever that’s supposed to mean), not even when his Mum took him to get his hair trimmed despite his fancying the curls in his face, hiding his childish eyes, thus hiding his emotions._

_No, this is worse. This threatens to tear them apart. To break them down and run them straight to that damned place._

_Yet nobody seems to recognise this._

_Gemma is beside him, giggling girlishly (yuck), tugging on his arm, dragging him outside the upstairs sitting room where he practices the keys of his piano. “Where are we going?” he questions cagily._

_“Away!” Gemma giggles, the musical sound that makes those stupid Alphas from Parliament watch her with those nasty predatory looks. It pisses Harry off beyond appropriate measures, and though he’s only eleven, he’s already broken two blokes’ noses for that look. Vulgar, violating–not meant for the lineage of his sister. For those stunts he’d earned a very much trouble and reprimanding from his Mum. It’d been worth it. “We’re going to be free of this. Remember? Mum says we are leaving. All three of us! Aren’t you glad, Harry?” Not really–why would I be? This is where we belong. All four of us. A family._

_Blinking, the to-be Alpha tries to find happiness, but can’t. Not really. “Yes, I very well am. Of course,” he lies defensively; aware that his older sister is watching him with that expectant expression. She’s going to present Alpha, surely. They both are. Father believes so–and their Father is the most brilliant Alpha on this planet._

_Upsetting recognition falls over her pretty features, and she frowns–which is a feat as Gemma is a happy and joyful little girl. “You’re not. Why aren’t you happy, Harry? Don’t you wish to be normal?”_

_Looking away, he mutters, “We’re not meant to be normal, Gemma. We are that of the Council. Heir and heiress. Don’t you wish to make Father proud?”_

_At this the to-be Alpha practically hears Gemma roll her identical eyes as she speaks in that voice that mocks, ‘you’re entirely ridiculous, little boy’, “Why do you care so much, Harry? If you’re such a Council’s Alpha, heir, whichever, then why are you so reliant on Fathers approval?”_

_Again, he blinks. “I am not! I do not care!” Liar–he cares about his Fathers approval more than he cares about being free of the Councils strict regime. But he doesn’t want to say so._

_“They why do you constantly–?”_

_“GEMMA. Come here this instant!” Mother rushes out of Fathers great office and before the two have realised what’s happening their Mum is dragging Gemma down the hall and down the spiral stairway. Gemma looks frantic now, her wide green eyes flickering from Harry to their Mother, “Mum!?”_

_There are tears spilling down Mum’s cheeks, ruining her perfected makeup. Enough tears to create a river in their home, surely. “Hush, dear. We are leaving, as promised.”_

_Confused, Harry swallows and starts to follow when Father steps out of the same magnificent doors, placing one heavy, commanding hand on his frail shoulder. “You are to stay,” the older, wise Alpha orders._

_Without answering, not caring at this moment, he takes off, not noticing the way everything blurs by in his haste, but aware that Father is following slowly, watching him as he struggles to catch up with his Mum and sister. They’re already outside when he finds them, and his Mum is forcing Gemma into the backseat of a vehicle Harry’s never once seen before. One that’s run down and looks like it’s going to fall apart any second now. Nothing in his prestigious life has looked so shabby–why are they using this instead of having one of the servants drive them?_

_Confused and desperate for an explanation he stops beside his Mother, panting, “Mother! M-Mummy…what’s going on?”_

_Slowly his Mother turns to face him, pale, face in a mess of makeup, eyes drowning in steady tears. And he knows then. It’s true. He’s staying. Something inside him shuts down and he takes a staggering step backwards, swallowing around the tightness in his throat reflexively. He’s staying…he’s staying…They’re abandoning him. He’s always known Gemma is the favoured child, he’s seen Father lavish her with love, and he’s seen Mum praise her every word. But Father’s always distant with him, always makes it a point to hold him at a far arms length. But Mum’s never…_

_Was it the fuss he’d thrown a night or two ago? Was it because he’d begged to come home to Father? Is it because he’s the lesser child? Already a disgrace unworthy of a Mother’s presence? What has he done? How can he fix it?_

_God, he couldn’t have ever imagined this…No…no…Mummy no._

_“Oh, darling,” she cries, tries to pull him into an embrace, but it’s too late for that, Harry only takes another startled step away. “I’m so, so sorry, baby. I love you so much. But I have no other choice. I can’t stay here. You will have a much better life than the females, Harry, please understand this.”_

_But he’s eleven, and only cares to know that he’s been blinded into believing he was loved and wanted. Now it’s real, he’s unwanted. Again, he swallows around some pathetic noise Father would be ashamed to hear, feeling his eyes sting with tears Father would be ashamed to see… An ache pangs in his chest, but his eyes dart to where Gemma is crying in the backseat, struggling to get out and back to him. But Mum blocks her. Obviously not wanting his sister to be any more ruined by his very proximity… “No! No, Mummy, no! I want to stay! I don’t want to go anymore! Not without Harry!” she’s sobbing–Gemma who has never cried one tear in her life; in fact Harry’s always been the more emotional (which he despises about himself). He’s cried and cried endlessly over silly things. Now…with something so critical, worthy of sobs and breaking, his lacrimal apparatus seems to be jammed as no tears spring._

_Distantly, at the great entrance, Father watches silently. There is nothing on the males’ stoic features. But there is something in his gaze. Something ruined, and burning. That looks leaves Harry feeling like he’s going to become ash under the force and flitter away with the cold, approaching winters wind. Strong. Deadly._

_Why is he letting this happen? Why is he letting them abandon us? He’s the Alpha! Alpha who controls and masters and who is able to force anything! Except…he’s not doing anything._

_Ignoring his Mother completely, betrayal cutting so deep in his lungs they might collapse as there isn’t structure to hold them anymore, like there isn’t structure to hold their family together. The young boy pastes a weak smile for his older sister, giving her the strength he’s suddenly found, “Bye, Gems. I’ll miss you.”_

_Just like that, he ignores his Mother, ignores her some more to make her hurt a little like he does, ignores her pleads for him to come back as he brushes past the lot of them, past his stone still Father and the watching eyes of the servants and the paintings and the shadows in the crevasses of their now lifeless manor. It’s no longer home–it’s simply what it is, a manor. Like this he climbs the stairs, finds Gemma’s room, steps inside and closes the door gently behind him._

_The walls are ice pink (everything is–nobody could deny Gemma her wants. Even as Harry’s room remains blandly beige, bare of posters or character, Gemma’s is pretty and girly with stuffed animals shelved and drawings on the wall). Feeling sickened by himself, hurting like never before, unable to breathe evenly, Harry curls into a small ball with one of those stupid stuffed bears on his sisters bed, screwing his eyes shut. And he doesn’t cry._

_Because Alphas don’t cry. That’s what he reminds himself as the tears sting and threaten again. But they never once fall. Because…_

_Alphas don’t cry, Alphas don’t cry, Alphas don’t cry, he chants inwardly for so long it’s become a mantra, working to shield his emotions, to repress them._

_It’s a long time before the door to Gemma’s room eases open. And he knows who it must be, even as the door closes with an equally quiet click, then heavy footsteps approach the bed frame. In a blur he’s dragged into an embrace, “Dad,” he croaks, discarding the stupid bear to hold onto his Father like the Alpha is his oxygen tank. His only constant. “Why? Why did you let them go? Don’t you love us? Don’t you!?”_

_“It was their time, Harry,” he hears the Alpha say, sounding more gruff and emotional than Harry’s ears have ever heard. The male has always been their strength and structure, supporting them financially, supporting his Mum and Gemma emotionally, supporting Harry mentally. But now, when the young boy looks up from where he’d buried his face in the Alpha’s cravat, his Father is crying. Even when he isn’t._

_“It’s not too late!” he rushes through the words frantically, sobs without tears still because ALPHAS DO NOT CRY, he will be the best Alpha, he will make his Father proud and he will never shed another tear. “We can find them! You love Mummy! You love her! You love Gems! You love them!” Not us…Not me. But that’s okay. Alphas don’t hurt. And if an Alpha does not hurt than I do not hurt._

_“Love doesn’t exist.”_

_“You’re lying! You must be lying! Dad, you love them! You lo–!”_

_He’s carried closed again, even when he was expecting a harsh slap or punishment like the training provided–because one does not question their elders either. Instead, the male’s hold gentles over him._

_“Hush, little heir of mine. You’re going to be the most worthy Alpha of them all.”_

_Harry shakes his head, and sobs dryly. I don’t want to be the best Alpha if it means having nobody to love me. To have me love them._

_“Love doesn’t exist, Harry, it’s time you learnt the most important lessons in life. Starting with this one. There isn’t such a thing as love. Love doesn’t exist.”_

In an instant he’s zero to one hundred, his Alpha roars to life, and he’s tearing through the snow, past the trees, with an agility only his Alpha could possess. Control is lost, even as the panic swamps him. This is it, the animal’s broken free, and he’s on the hunt, an obsessive need to _find…to find…Louis._

Skidding to an abrupt halt, the icy-cold rush of energy accompanies the end of the hunt. Vision sharp, surrounded by the woods, the Alpha searches the snowy grounds, and finds its lure. Curled up beside an aged tree, Louis’s expression is terrified, lost, and helpless. “Louis,” it’s not his voice, it’s nowhere _close._ Startled, the Omega whimpers, but those wide eyes blindly fly in his direction, glossy in the moonlight with tears that skate down his cheeks. “Kitten,” his Alpha starts towards him, prowling. “What are you doing out here? You should _not be out here.”_

“Alpha, I…I’m s-s-scared,” he whispers brokenly, mouth a cavern of despair, tears overflowing. “I…I…didn’t w-w-want Alpha to leave…And I…I called for Alpha…b-b-but Alpha ignored me…And I had to find Alpha.”

An animal-esque sound starts up his throat as he kneels before him, the Omega scrambling into him, clinging to him. “You could have been _hurt._ You could have… _Fuck, Louis, you can’t pull shit like this. You’re–,” blind._

Making a distressed, hurt noise in his throat, the Omega cries, “I…I’m s-s-sorry, Alpha. So s-s-sorry.” And Harry is _too_ as the animal succumbs to him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, rounding the boy’s slim waist, carrying him impossibly close.

“Christ,” his says, mind grinding to a halt, like the gears are lodged as he whispers into his hair, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. You can’t put yourself at risk. You can’t, Louis.”

Sniveling, the Omega continues to cry, “You can’t _leave me!”_

“I wasn’t,” Harry promises, cupping his cool cheeks, wiping gently at the hot fresh tears with his thumbs. “I am never leaving you. Just…sometimes I need to _think,_ Louis. A second alone.” Like now, he thinks powerlessly, still attempting to understand the meaning behind his Father’s _words._ Because it’s _deeper_ than just _love doesn’t exist…_ there’s something else, there has to be.

_‘Love doesn’t exist.’_

Of course it does. He’s seen it, so many special types, romantic love between Niall and Josh, friendship love between Zayn and himself, family love between Louis and his family– _love exists,_ he insists silently.

 _But what the fuck did he mean?_ another part questions.

Attempting to ignore it, the Alpha clutches Louis’s shaking frail form, whispers sweet nothings until Louis is whispering repeatedly, “I love you. Don’t leave me. I love you. Don’t leave me. I love–,”

“Make me believe it,” Harry doesn’t mean to say it, but the words won’t _quit,_ “Make me believe love exists, Louis. Make me believe it.”

“I love you,” the Omega breathes, planting wet kisses up the column of his throat. “We’re so repetitive.”

“Old habits die hard,” the Alpha whispers, letting him drag back to stroke the hair from his face, shivering under the tepid proximity. “I-I’m cold, Haz.”

Just like that he rises to a stance, taking his Omega with him, and then walking them hurriedly to camp where the others seem to have not recognised anything amiss. Steering Louis clear of them quietly as possible, the Alpha takes note of the dying fire, pouring lighter fluid because he doesn’t know what else to do, and certainly isn’t adding fire wood at this point. If it comes down to it, he’ll let Louis have all his body warmth. Exhaling shakily, the Alpha sits in one of the seats near the fire, pulling Louis into his lap. The fire warms them as Harry stares at Louis with his wispy, thick lashes, pale features, almost grey blank eyes.

Minutes later Niall pokes his head out of the tent, smiles sleepily and joins them, followed by Josh, then Liam, who leaves the tent unzipped as Zayn remains asleep. Quiet, they all laze by the fire, and it’s a while that passes when an easily recognisable sound comes over the crackling of the fire and their breaths. Louis stills, and Harry grins so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Niall,” he whispers into the curve of his ear. “I fucking know that dirty little–,”

Across from them comes a little, furious whisper, “I did not! If I farted it’d be fuckin’ rainbows and fuckin’ butterflies. That smells atrocious. That was not me.”

Louis begins to laugh, muffling the sound in Harry’s throat. But as he laughs, everyone who seems to have also heard the sound, laughs…except…Zayn.

“It honestly wasn’t me this time, guys!” Niall defends.

Once again Harry thinks _what the fuck is my life._ Everyone’s gaze finds the wide open tent with a bundled figure. Liam’s gaze is the only doting one as Niall howls in laughter, “Oh my God! It was Zayn! That sneaky shit thinks he’s so damned perfect! Look at ‘im now! Sleeping and farting! This is too priceless!” Louis shakes with musical giggles.

 “It’s cute!” Liam says defensively.

When everyone looks at him, his cheeks turn beet red and their laughter wakes Zayn up. But the Alpha doesn’t stay to watch Zayn’s embarrassment, carrying Louis back to their tent.  Outside the others continue to talk animatedly, to tease, and music starts up, slow and soothing.

In his lap, the Omega’s mouth dips and teases his until Harry _knows_ love exists because the love in his kiss is undeniable.

An electric current lights up their space, and he doesn’t…want to ever resist. Never again, he vows, catching the tempting curve of his bottom lip between his canines. Aching for it like never before, Harry parts Louis’s soft tempting mouth, spreading something exquisitely sweet with his tongue, more than words, more than lust.

There are no words–only hot sweet breaths, and fervent sounds in their darkness. Those noises taste like heaven in his mouth, and beneath his hands clothes are torn, tattered, whispering to the tents fabric. Beneath his worshipping hands the porcelain skin feels like silk.

Spreading his bare silhouette over the sleeping bag, the Alpha memorises these dips and curves and hollows with his mouth. “I still feel it…love,” he whispers in a trance against sharp hipbones, marring the skin with his teeth, listening to gasps that melt the cool, frost-laden forest air. “You make me feel like love exists.” More intoxicating gasps, trembling, fingers locked in his hair as his tongue drags up his tummy, circling his navel, pausing at peaked nipples, taking them between his teeth, teasing them with his tongue and mouth until they’re swollen, sensitive.  

Luminous beneath him, his hands splay over his thighs, hitch his hips as his mouth works against the sweet spot at his throat. Fused, his name is a breathy mantra, a sacred hymn, there aren’t any “I need…”’s, there aren’t any, “Alpha”’s…Just his name. Just him. And those noises, the floral fragrance, the dainty hands tangled in his curling waves, magnetize him. Until his fingers ghost down the delicate curve of his spine to the swells of his ass, taking the perfect rounds in his hands, desire beating fiercely in his veins, incited by the beautiful creature beneath him.

“Love exists,” he breathes, an enlightenment that comes over him when he raises his face from the kiss bruised throat.  Bowed, the boys head is tipped back into the sleeping bag, those eyes shut, delicious swollen lips parted to release tiny tortured breaths. “You are love.” _My only love._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So I hope you all TOOK YOUR TIME!:* And I would love thoughts!:)  
> Endless love,  
> .xx


	25. Part Twenty Five;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa! It's sure been a while! So sorry, loves! Exams kicked my ass! Hope you all enjoy:)  
> First I want to thank you all for the endless motivation and love! You guys make this even more worth while! I couldn't do it without you all. So endless love to you all!:*  
> Next I would like to thank my lovely Dream Team! The help they've given me throughout is immeasurable! Especially you, Alyssa, [loveliest](http://xkissmeimirishx.tumblr.com) ! This chapter is for you, babe, for the constant support. So many thanks. I honestly 100% could not have gotten through it without you! And I could never ever thank you enough, babe! Also, my right hands, Harley, [babe](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarLouis) and Miles, [bestbeta](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com)! Always help, always love, always what I need as well!  
> Thank you guys so much! They deserve endless love! Check them out:)  
> Well now I shall let you all get to it! Ugh, always nervous...  
> .xxx  
> (Hi, lovelies. So I know I haven't updated in quite a while. I am sorry for this. But I promise I have not abandoned this fic, and I shall be coming home to my LMWYEC babies, and you all, very soon! This is my tumblr URL: harry-just-might.tumblr.com If there are any questions please come to my ask or my beta's [listed above] or leave a comment here! Thanks so much! Miss you all. Take care. Dani .xx)

Exhaustion slows his movements. In this stagnant state the Omega repacks his bag with care, mumbling, “I’ve got it, thanks,” to Tabitha, his social aide, when she tries instead. Understanding, she retreats, though Louis is aware she continues to watch him fumble and struggle with the bloody Braille material. On his own it takes more time than it would anyone else, but it happens, and then Louis shrugs his backpack over his shoulder, smoothes his fringe self-consciously before taking his time towards the exit. Unsurprising, his hip bumps into desks along the way, stumbles him as humiliated heat creeps up on his cheek. Even knowing the desks are _there,_ he can’t seem to _keep it in mind,_ and this tailspins anxiety through him–he memorises his classrooms layout at the beginning of each year, and never _once_ has he forgotten the precise placement. “It’s alright, Louis,” Tabitha attempts to assure him, directing him right when he pauses, startled. _Oh, no–_ that she’s noticed means she’s going to tell his mum, and then the visit to the specialist is inevitable.

“Tripped,” the lie is _heavy_ on his tongue, lining his throat with shame. Memory deterioration–symptom number one. At the thought, chills run down his spine, but the Omega chooses to overlook the thoughts, the sympathetic _tsks_ from whoever caught that, the stifled snickers, shoving and shoving and shoving each in his mental trunk.

Desperate to bid this day goodbye, Louis exits with his head bowed low. Only when he’s carried into Harry’s arms does Louis release the pent up breath, though it lasts only seconds as Tabitha pauses beside them. “Nice to see you again, Harry. Successful day?” she asks kindly.

“As successful as it can be,” Harry murmurs cautiously, obviously wanting to know her reason for pausing.

“Ah, I’m sure. Well I’ll be on my way. Louis, make sure to tell your mother to call me, yeah, darling?” Only when Tabitha receives his assurance does the Beta leave them, leave him to Harry’s curiosity. Nosing at his temple, the Alpha asks flippantly, “What’s all that about?”

“No idea.” This time the lie is deliberate, though his Omega is screaming at him, Louis can’t listen, not when his mind is racing with worries that _Harry’s_ worries will escalate and accrue his own.

“Mmm. You’re lying.”

“Yes I am,” Louis acknowledges, burying his face in the slant of his throat. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Surprising him, the Alpha doesn’t press, instead comments, “Long day?” Out of the two issues, this is _definitely_ the lesser evil, so Louis decides to take the only opportunity Harry gifts him with.

“Yeah,” the Omega mumbles, shrugging one-shouldered as Harry steers them through the halls. Relieved to be escorted, to be able to rely on his Alpha’s working senses, Louis doesn’t object, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask, simply _lets._ Except the Alpha brings them to abrupt halt, tipping his face to stare resolutely at him, an intensity that pins him motionless so much so that Louis doesn’t make an attempt to stop his fringe from falling into his eyes, needing the comfort of its concealment. Humming that enlightened sound, Harry brushes the hair from his face with gentle fingers, then gathers him so close Louis releases another unsteady breath, finally lowering his heavy lids and softening against him.

“How about we chill at the library for a bit,” Harry suggests considerately. But the Omega doesn’t have any desire to stay _here,_ has lost his sense of belonging to the library he had once held so dear. It’s been lost to Harry Styles, and in his arms is where Louis wants to _stay_ always, library or not. When he doesn’t respond, Harry murmurs, “Okay. Not here then. How about the library at the manor? Just until it’s time to leave.”

Alone. Much more tempting. Louis makes an effort to nod: shallow, unconvinced. Without another word the Alpha walks them through the vacated halls with Louis’s nose pressed to his (unnecessarily posh and immaculately tailored) blazer, lids lowered, breath held in attempts to hide how close he is to hyperventilating. Mercifully, it works. Outside his temperature cools, even though his body shivers, he’s more comfortable like this, depending on Harry’s warm. Once they’ve reached the car, the Alpha opens the passenger side though Louis clings to his waist. “Louis, love,” Harry murmurs lightly, though there isn’t a trace of amusement to his tone. “C’mon we will have to stay if we’re attached at the hip.”

“This isn’t the hip,” Louis counters quietly. “This is the front.”

“Ah, my mistake, little one,” skilled, soothing digits stroke the line of his throat until thumbing at the sensitive skin that marks his sweet spot. Shivering, the intimate touch reassures him enough that some semblance of the Louis from days gone by…returns to him. “We can’t move, then, if we’re attached at the _front._ ”

“Touché,” the Omega whispers before biting down on his bottom lip to thwart the smile toying with the corners of his mouth. Damn this Alpha and his remarkable ability to make him smile even when he can’t find any more reason to.

“First day back wasn’t much of a success, was it?” his tone softens, not with pity, but with a miserable perception that makes him snort, traitor tears forming in his stupid eyes. “No, not at all,” the Omega admits helplessly. “Nobody…talked to me. A-And Niall is excused from class so it was just me and Tabitha and I felt quite alone…Outcasted.”

Tension overcomes the Alpha’s body as a forcefully hostile growl forms in his throat. The sound sends tingles of warmth (and a bit of anxiety) through his scrapped raw nerves. Hands sneak underneath the material of his wool top, splaying on his sides. “What do you mean _nobody talked to you?_ ”

“Just like it sounds,” Louis whispers, ashamed by how hurt he is by this. “Not one of my _friends._ E-Except Aiden. Aiden spoke to me…but I think he’s scared of you.”

“Good ‘cause if he decides to be a bit _too nice_ I’ll make sure he’s given a _real_ reason to be scared,” Harry growls playfully, and then continues considerately, “That kids has brains. I will send him a gift basket for his kindness.” Louis decides Harry’s superiority complex is limited only to _other Alphas._

With a little laugh, the Omega pokes at him, then murmurs softly, “Send ‘im a nice _big_ Alpha kiss.”

“A no-go. All my kisses belong to this beautiful boy. Feisty Omega, too, quite jealous sometimes. Threatens to cut three inches off my dick.”

“Sounds like an Omega perfectly equipped to keep such a flirty Alpha on a short leash,” Louis quips knowingly.

“Oh he is,” Harry murmurs huskily. “Got such a sweet luscious ass, couldn’t want any other. If anyone needs to worry, it’s _me,_ because my Omega is quite the attraction, and I don’t think I’m the only admirer. But I will make sure I’m the only one allowed to have, first by making sure everyone who didn’t talk to him is on my hit-list. Give me names, kitten.”

Louis chews on his bottom lip, processing all this before shaking his head frantically. “No.”

“No? Why not?” his voice is mostly playful, but there’s a relentless hint of demand there as well. A tremor runs up his spine, melts any traces of the anxious loops in his tummy.

“No,” another shy laugh as Louis shoves at him. “No!”

“Names, _minx,_ names.”

“Nope!”

“Kitten,” the Alpha warns, closing in on him until Louis’s back flattens against the car. Just like that his Omega brightens, instinctive and flighty, eager to be chased. A demanding hand grips his jaw. “Don’t run,” he murmurs seriously. “Not here. We can play when we get to the library. Wanna play, little one?”

As his mouth parts, emotion burns behind his blind eyes, compelling him to nod as eagerly. “I wanna play, Alpha.” _I wanna heal. I wanna be a normal Omega sometimes, too._

“Game on,” the Alpha murmurs with a finality that thrills him. “I want those names. And I am going to have them.”

Shivering again, Louis licks his dry lips, whispers, “Your ego is talkin’ again, Haz.” Wordless, Harry muscles him into the car, then makes swift work on the safety belt. All the while the Omega holds his breath, then takes the lapels of his blazer in trembling hands, exposing his features. “The day I tell you those names, Alpha, is the day I see.”

Leaning in, Harry growls low in his throat, a scolding as his mouth ghosts along Louis’s jawline. “That mouth is going to get you into trouble–I could make you tell me _now,_ little on. Don’t test me.”

Through parted lips, Louis manages, “Another impossibility.”

“But I want to play with you,” he continues easily, like Louis hadn’t spoken. “I _live_ to play with you.”

“Have you ever…?” the Omega trails curiously, jealousy threatening to spark in his chest.

“Played with another Omega? No, Louis,” the information causes his head to swim with warm _foam,_ makes his Omega purr _we’re special._ “Never. Only ever thought about it in that meadow…when _you_ wanted to play. Why did you wanna play with me, little one? You didn’t even know me. You didn’t know what I was capable of? You didn’t know my intentions.”

No, Louis _hadn’t,_ but to learn had been the _drive,_ an instinctive Omega need. “Because,” the Omega divulges, “I knew you would chase me. What Alpha wouldn’t? You would have chased me.”

“And?” that he’s pressing tells Louis he isn’t taking the partial truth for an answer.

“And I wanted you to chase me,” the Omega breathes, squirming as Harry’s scent intensifies, consuming the oxygen. “I wanted you to _catch me,_ to have me and keep me. I wanted to know your Alpha. We did.”

Just before his throat, the Alpha pauses, breathing hotly on his skin–Louis arches, silently pleading with him to put his mouth to his bonding spot like two night ago in that tent. Sensation swamps him, the skin that’s marked from bruising kisses and sucks and licks, his hips, his thighs, his _tummy,_ aches like never before. “You wanted me then? Like that?”

Careless, the Omega nods, “Of course I did. Always wanted you, Alpha. Always.”

“You succeeded, sneaky little kitten,” his voice is deep with approval. “Alpha wanted you then, wants you _now,_ always will want you. Always will chase you, catch you, _keep_ you.” The dominant coating to the words causes his Omega to scratch to the surface so suddenly his actions are uncontrollable as Louis’s hand reach up to fist Harry’s thick waves. As their mouths meet, the Alpha hums, nips wetly on his bottom lip, drenching him in sweet sensation. Eager to explore, his hands run over the broad of his shoulders to the subtle muscles of his biceps, clutching, feeling the tension there. Parting his mouth, Harry’s tongue takes, and the Omega mewls, presenting. The thrusts are languid against his tongue until Louis’s senses are blurred with that telltale heat.

With a throaty laugh, Harry breaks the kiss, but Louis mumbles, “no,” until he returns one, twice, a third time, then forces them apart.

With a sharp inhale, Harry retreats, and Louis smiles hazily, struggling to even his breath until Harry’s on the driver’s side, bringing a little chill in with him that feels like absolute heaven on his heated skin. A while they drive with lolling motion and lullaby-like humming until the vehicle slows, stopping briefly at what must be the gates, then continuing into the lot. Once he’s standing on the concrete, Harry takes his hand. As he’s carried forward, Louis smiles shyly at him, then stumbles through some doors into a warm _home._

Releasing a thoroughly pleased sigh, the Omega squeezes Harry’s hand as they continue to stroll on and on, rounding corners and bends until with an annoyed sigh the Alpha brings them to a standstill. “Bloody maze this place is.” Sadness stabs at his happy haze with the thought that it’s not that “the manor” is a maze…but that Harry hasn’t spent enough time to know his own _home._

As to keep those very words silent, Louis bites his bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth to wrack his mind for the information on _how_ they had found the library last week on “exploration day”, then, “We went…towards the east entry.” If there is anything Louis can remember with pathetic clarity it’s _every blessed moment with Harry._

“East? Are you sure?”

“I’d like to think I have proper memory where you’re concerned. It was east. We walked through what must’ve been the foyer. Then some stretches down before you said, _‘the east wing is massive, I don’t know why I didn’t figure it’d be here before?’_ and I said something along the lines of _‘because you’re Harry, and you think too much’.”_

“Ah, yes,” he says in that tone that tells Louis he’s slowly (but surely) recalling this. “Alright. East. We’re west at the mo’.”

“Then I suppose we should turn around,” the Omega suggests mock sagely, but pleased to have helped even with something so trivial. Like Harry does (though he probably _shouldn’t),_ the Alpha listens, trusting him. They stroll back towards where they must’ve started with Harry commenting on the statues, the Renaissance paintings, the Persian carpets, until Louis is teasing him on his extreme expertise on terrazzo, and frescoes designed windows (whatever that looks like). And he thinks the Alpha is _embarrassed,_ fumbling endearingly, attempting nonchalance until kissing him breathless in retaliation.

Crossing the manor to the west entry takes a while, but the two manage. By the time Harry shoves the heavy doors open, Louis is giggling madly, blushing furiously as he’s hustled through them with Harry speaking gently, “Gonna have an entire library of Braille. Have lots and lots and lots of books made. So you can pretend to read them whenever you’re bored of me.”

“Oh shut up!” Louis scolds, stumbling, then gasping when he’s dragged down to the lush carpet, sprawled out on the length of Harry’s lean solid figure. Resting his head on his chest, right over his heartbeat, his fingers trail down his right arm to interlock their fingers. “Make love to me,” he breathes demurely, lifting his face to bat his lashes.

“One day,” the Alpha promises, voice scratchy and deep–seemingly so torn that Louis gives it another few months. Gives _them_ another few months until they’re ready. Until they give as much as they take.

Louis giggles, delightedly glowing with boundless trust. “One day soon?”

“As soon as we can,” Harry claims so definitely butterflies stir in his tummy.

A purr escapes his throat as the Omega beams, then eagerly, “Let’s play, Alpha mine.”

“Okay,” Harry murmurs as Louis sits up, then rises to an unsteady stance with one hand behind his knee to balance him. “Okay, Omega mine.”

∞

            When the boy rises to a wavering stance the first roaring impulse is to bring him back down to the carpet and underneath him. Because it’s been two days since he’s last had it, and he _wants_ it like nothing else. But when Louis sidesteps him the chase is set in motion, and his Alpha rises to the challenge resolutely. The shift does not intervene unnoticed. In mere seconds his vision files down into sharp, single-minded focus, analysing the Omega’s body language as he sashays, the tempting sway of his hips, the curve of his luscious ass in the chinos. Back up to the curve of his spine, delicate shoulders curled inward, face bowed subtly to make him appear that much smaller.

Christ, how many times can Harry possibly think this boy is beautiful? Every time in every which way with a million adjectives.

“Kitten,” he whispers huskily, muscles coiled, awake the charge of the chase. Magma rushes through his veins, straight to his already hard enough cock–which fabulous, like obsessive lust and coercion sexual instinct is what he really needs right now.

When the boy doesn’t respond, continuing to tease the flames, Harry swallows, and lowers his stare to his ass again. “You have my attention, kitten. I’m looking. I want to make love to you right now. Teasing me makes no difference though.”

No response.

The silence prods at him, that Louis gives no indication of hearing (rather _listening_ to him) escalates the emotion flaring somewhere in his chest. Confusion furrows his brows, but he can’t convince his damned eyes to leave their focal point on Louis’s ass, not right now. The boy doesn’t pause, extending one hand so it flattens on one of the masses of shelves. The bookcase is a fortress leading up to the high stone structured ceiling, and in comparison to that Louis looks so tiny.

And _fuck_ does he look tiny underneath Harry too.

“What are we doing, Louis?” he asks coolly when the Omega continues to drift, poised fingers tracing the spines of previously untouched books. This time Louis _does_ pause, though he doesn’t even spare him a look. “We’re playing, aren’t we?” Yeah, they are, but it doesn’t feel like the _play_ he’s familiar with.

Regarding him, the Alpha feels his ribcage contract with the expanse of emotion, an unpleasant crawling ache. Inhaling shakily, he asks, careful to measure his tone into a stoic line, “Are we?”

“Yes, Harry.” Blank. Phlegmatic. Not like Louis. Certainly not like his Omega. The unexpected swing in persona leaves him floundering like a fish out of clean water. An emotion tsunami crashes into him all the same, gives him momentary life, but he’s _sinking,_ drowning, lost at sea. Unable to understand anything other than the fact that he is in the water, able to endure, but what water’s emotional depth is unknown. Salt, lake, river, stream? Anger, helplessness, affection, desire? “Don’t you want to play with me, H?”

This demeanor makes the stony sensation in his chest feel a thousand times too heavy. “H?”

Again nothing. The tumult flourishes, reaching heights it’s never touched before, almost it’s zenith. _Fuck_ if he understands what’s going on. “Am I _H_ to you now, Louis?”

“I don’t know.” With that he continues down, hands running along the shelves until disappearing to the next aisle. “You tell me, H,” the boy chirps from the next side. Without permission Harry is stalking him, animalistic, longing for the dainty hands tracing the edge of one particularly thick book ( _‘Edible Wildflowers’)_ to work his cock instead.

“Who am I, Louis?”

At this the Omega shrugs. “You’re Harry, silly.”

“But who am I to _you?_ ” he presses, willing Louis to _say it,_ stare smoldering with demanding force as his hands burn the same, the lack of skin-to-skin contact fucking _burning_ him. Christ, he hates this, loathes that he has to duck back underneath the water line to find the right responses.

“Harry,” Louis repeats like its obvious, shrugging again before rounding the next aisle. Another unknown takes a vice-like grip on him–it must be causing stress as his heart begins to pound against his chest. “I’m Alpha. Your Alpha.” _Why are you making me feel otherwise?_

“Do you feel like that? How could you possibly figure?”

Posed with this question, he swallows, hard, then blurts before he can think otherwise. “Because I adore you…You’re the only person I see anymore. I feel…”

“It’s not quite so difficult to say the words, Harry.”

The contemptuous tone causes his skin to crawl–frustration follows. “I feel a lot of shit. ‘M willing to reckon I’m feeling miserable right now when you don’t give _me_ your emotions. Is this how you feel when I don’t communicate mine, when I don’t know what to make of them at all? How is that fair?”

Just like that Louis’s effortless gait is lost, and his breathing hitches though he still does not face him. “Of course. I feel lost without the connection. I feel…disgustingly needy because I need you to remind me that I’m not alone in this. To give reciprocation to what I’m feeling. And you don’t. How is _that_ fair?”

Another something twines and weaves through and around his veins, tweaking the synapses between his every neuron agonizingly. Seems his mouth is linked to that feeling personally–before he can think about this either, he speaks faintly, “You’re the emotionally attuned one in this, little one. I…I know some of it? I’m trying…I know I’m fuckin’ scared. I know what love feels like, Louis. And I know what loss feels like, too. But more than that I know how _you_ feel.” Well now I’ve diagnosed myself with idiocy–a major case of _Morons Syndrome._ Well now that solves _everything._

“Do you _understand_ what I feel though?”

“I try to. Sometimes I think I do, yeah.”

Arching one artful brow, the boy snorts, “I think you’re lying.”

Irritation needles at him now, and his voice comes as a snarl, “I’m real _sick_ of being called a liar, Louis. I don’t lie. Not to you at the very least. I know what goes through that emotionally designed psyche of yours.”

Through the bond some twisted satisfaction feeds through from the boy and his teeth clench in attempts to deny the growl building in his chest. To be tested like this does not sit well with him, but this is the game, and _fuck if he loses._ “You haven’t proved so.”

Storming forward, the Alpha tries to grab him, but Louis scrambles backwards. A sweet gasp floods the space between them, delicious pink blooming on his cheeks as those wide childlike eyes are exposed to him completely. “N-No, Harry, don’t…touch. Keep those hands to yourself.”

_“You’re mine to touch.”_

In response that soft tempting mouth curves into a slightly pained smile, and he seems to hesitate then asks, “Is this physical to you, H? Lust? Is that it? You want to take the blind boys innocence? Say you accomplished that and ruined me for anyone else?” _Fuck I want to ruin you for anyone else–only mine, only mine, only fucking mine._ But the words are cruel and calculated enough that his vision becomes unfocused; the hurt takes hold. The words aren’t thought out, but damn suddenly they’re _there._ “I want to touch you emotionally, too, Louis. At first I was content with feeding on _your_ emotions…but now I _do_ want to reciprocate.”

“How are you feeling right now, Alpha?” his voice has softened so much that Harry’s heart guns at his chest, revived. A luxury–the Omega calling him by his title, reminding him that he’s not as emotionally detached as he’s playing, which both exalts his rage and alleviates his panic. “Panicked. Furious.” Incredulous, unimpressed, the Omega sighs, then starts in the opposite direction again. Scrambling to give him what he wants, to make sure he _stays,_ the Alpha comes out with, “Hurt. Christ, Louis, I’m _hurt._ Is that what you want to hear? Are you pleased now?”

Stopping again, Louis tilts his head, fringe threatening to conceal the windows to his emotions. “And why are you feeling hurt?”

“Because,” he mutters roughly, “I’m fumbling about like an absolute moron trying to reach you on emotional levels I cannot comprehend, Louis.”

“Does that scare you? To think you might not be able to touch me in every way?”

“Yeah fuckin’ right,” his voice is cold, defenses taking hold of his tongue. In the same instant, Louis shakes his head, then murmurs sadly, “Okay, H. Whatever you say.”

“Louis, come on,” the Alpha reasons, but the Omega makes another face, turns and starts away once more. _Christ._

“Okay!” he appeases recklessly, circling his thin wrist in two fingers. “Stop that. Just…stay. God damn it, Lou, _yes._ Yes it scares me to think I might not touch you like that.”

“You don’t seem scared…”

“I don’t want to seem like that. I can’t be that…person, Louis. It’s not me. But it’s not like I’m not trying my _best_ to get there.”

“You’re _not,_ Haz! You obviously aren’t! Sometimes I start to believe it’s _hopeless!_ ”

“Martyrdom isn’t for me, kitten,” it’s as close to a sneer as he can get with Louis. In this moment he’s attempting to keep his fingers from tightening, but with the provoking his tempers flared, his Alpha clawing at his chest, leaving livid read streaks. Terrified of his potential aggression, Harry releases him, tears in the opposite direction, fists his hands and makes himself remember Louis is _not_ allowed to be hurt.

Just as he turns to face him, Louis hisses, “No,” then storms up to him, the tension bowed between them as he stretches on his very tiptoes, poking at his chest. “I don’t suppose it is, Harry. How could anyone mourn someone who doesn’t give them anything to mourn? Ugh!” With those words, Louis carries one hand down his face, then whispers, “Why can’t you just…see this?” Shaking his head, the boy breathes, “Just tell me how you know you’re afraid, Haz?”

“I just _am!_ I don’t know how to describe it! Christ, how the _fuck_ do you describe that? I hate this feeling. I don’t want this fuckin’ feeling. But I have to fucking _deal with it._ So don’t tell me what I do and don’t feel, Louis Tomlinson.”

“Are you sure?”

Some sarcastic remark starts up, but a fresh dose of fear stops him. “I’m sure. This is fear. Some real fuckin’ terror, Louis.”

When Louis’s expression melts, Harry feels like such a walking heartache. But the boy isn’t leaving so he doesn’t allow those thoughts, simply continues, “I know what longing feels like, too. I’m longing for you. Right now. I want to touch and I have to have and God do I want to love you.”

“You don’t make me feel very loved,” Louis whispers–the heartbreak in his small voice moves mountains within him. Dread–pure, undeniable, _agonizingly known._ It’s a crushing riptide, an impending ruination, the mountains collapsing under its force. Flinching, one hand shoves through his hair, and he breathes numbly, “You’re fuckin’ with me right now. Please, tell me you’re fuckin’ with me.” When there isn’t an answer his voice raises to a strong shout, “ _Tell me you are fucking with me!_ ”

With a little snivel, Louis shakes his head frantically–right now Harry wants to call him a _liar,_ because the love is lurking in that blank stare. But _damn it,_ he doesn’t want to be wrong again. “Do you b-b-believe me, Alpha?”

“No,” he says tiredly. “No, I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you _love me!_ ” the words are torn from somewhere profound and depthless and seemingly untouchable to the conscious mind. But they’re fucking _true–_ his thoughts won’t get him through this. Not this time. That might possibly be the most mentally devastating part. All he’s learnt…he’s unlearning. “You love me. And I…I still…I still feel it. You have to feel it, too, you have to know that I…” _I love you beyond sane measures._ At this point his voice breaks and catches and falls to a whisper. Crumbling. Losing it. Losing conscious control. There is only _one_ emotion that finds him beyond the dread. One emotion he never dared to touch again before Louis Tomlinson. One he couldn’t stand to lose again. “You have to know it too.”

“Even when you don’t?”

“I know it. There’s no possibly way I fuckin’ couldn’t. Right now I’m staring at you and I’m feeling it. I feel warm as well. Almost too warm. I feel enamored by you. I feel like I breathe dirty, polluted air when you’re not with me to ease my lungs. I feel like I’m breaking into infinite pieces, like I’m being cauterized, like I’m about to start sobbing like a bitch when I think you might leave me. A constant anxiety even when I manage to convince myself otherwise. I feel at home in your darkness. I would give up _anything_ to make sure I never _stop feeling this._ That _you stay with me._ Because I won’t feel it like this for anyone else like I do you. Not anyone else.”

“You love me,” the boy says in that breathy, faraway voice, moisture lining those eyes.

Through a bruised, beaten to hell heart Louis’s helped him realise that love is _okay,_ its chance, but it’s damn worth it. But his throat is so tight, too tight, and he’s reached a plateau, left powerless, feeling less of an Alpha, nodding wildly, the blood drained from his face.

“You don’t have to give me the words, Alpha,” the acceptance in that soft tone makes him feel seconds from breaking down. “Not right now, not ever unless you’re ready. Just when…you can. If you can.”

Vision blurred with what must be tears he wants to shout _why? Why did you have to lie that time? Why did you have to ruin me like this? Why did you have to make me love you?_ But hell if he can–no he can’t because he would _never_ place the blame on Louis. It’s not his fault. But while he’s forgiven the Omega, he hasn’t forgiven _himself._ But he’s desperate to do so–it seems too uncomplicated though: he loves Louis, Louis loves him, and it’s _all they’ve got, all they need._ But it’s _not_ so uncomplicated.

“I’m trying to hold onto my pride…I shouldn’t have let you lie that day. I _did,_ but I swear I’m going to love you proper one day.”

“One day soon?” the boy breathes so trusting it’s painful to watch.

“As soon as I can,” he vows again, so many vows to be seen through… “I need you,” he whispers hoarsely, nearing the inevitable breaking point; feeling weak and worthless as he goes against all that’s made him who he is. Who he thought he was…Who he _isn’t._

“I feel lost, Lou. I don’t know who I am anymore. I can’t find who I am here…because this is the place that tore me down in the first place, that left me in this twisted autopilot of empty. This place didn’t build me. I thought at first it _did,_ that it was home…but it’s never been a fucking home, and I can’t find myself here. I don’t even know why I’m saying this. I don’t…I got so fucking _lost_ in this shit society and the council and I _forgot._ My…mum always found herself here…reading in the candlelight with the rain pelting at the roof…And Gemma always found herself in drawings and photos and crafts. D…Father always found himself in the Council. I have nowhere to find myself…” his voice becomes a shout, mirroring the panic that he’s oppressed for _years._ “Christ, Lou, I have _nowhere._ ”

“Oh, baby.” Somehow he catches the little whisper, and realises he’s one way or another ended up kneeling before him, clinging to his slim waist, burying his face in the soft of his tummy. Like this he keeps his lids screwed shut so he doesn’t have to see the grimace on his features. Yet he wouldn’t blame the Omega for walking out right now–because this is _repulsive._ And he’s letting it out there, repeating, _“so weak so weak so weak Louis Louis Louis,”_ until there’s a broken noise that isn’t his, and hands stroke his unruly mane. “No, baby, you aren’t weak. You are _not_ weak.”

Shaking his head the best he can without moving from his tummy, the Alpha breathes, “I never wanted to make this about me. It’s not. I’m fine, Louis, I’m okay. I don’t need you to help me, I’m okay.”

“No, Alpha, you’re not. But that does not make you weak,” his painfully intuitive boy shifts until he’s a feathery weight in his lap, urging him to his throat instead, then stroking the curls at the nape of his neck, comforting him until he manages to speak in a decrepit voice, “I want to be strong enough to bear the immensity of _both_ our pain. I can be that strong. I have to be. That’s the way to _fix this._ I want _you to be happy._ That is what I want more than anything else.”

“But that’s not how it works, Haz. That won’t work,” the Omega tells him, and it sounds so _wrong,_ so naïve, but it’s _honest._ And he knows it. “That will never work out. You need me. You need me to help you bear some of that weight.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I have to, Haz. I do. And if I don’t then it won’t work. You said you couldn’t keep feeding on my emotions. Well you can’t keep convincing yourself my happiness is _yours._ Because it isn’t. What makes me happy might not give the same to you. If that were so we’d be practically the same person. And lord knows we aren’t. So listen to me, baby, please, listen. You _need to be happy for yourself._ ”

“I’m happy making you happy.” _Aren’t I? Yes, I definitely am. But could I be better-off making myself happy too?_

“But that’s not what either of us needs. Harry, I need _you._ Not the Council’s Alpha. Not who you’ve created yourself to be for whatever reason. I need _you._ My Hazza. My Alpha is _you._ ”

“Don’t let me forget again, Lou. Make me remember. Give me somewhere to find myself, Louis. Give me _you,_ ” pathetically he _begs._ “Please…”

“I’m willing to give, Alpha. I _am_ giving. But you need to take and give as well. Give me _you._ Take _me._ For now I’ll be that place you can find yourself. But not forever. Only for now.” That’s enough.

Gratitude wells up inside him, and he wants to break into infinite specks of dust, wants to become some morphed version of a phoenix and offer it all over to this Omega. Wants to be better. Wants to forget there was ever anything _wrong._

“Kitten,” Harry breathes, exhaustion bleeding into his voice, contaminating the blood running through his veins. “I don’t know which emotions to grasp. But I’m learning. I’m learning that I can do it, that it’s not impossible…not when I have you. Gold, money, drugs, randoms…I believed all that shit would do something for my soul; heal it or whatever. But I never counted on you, on _forever._ I said it before, I’ll say it again, I will never stray. I will come home to you. I will love you proper. You’re my touchstone. I swear. I promise. I’ll be the Alpha you deserve. The love will never get lost.”

“We’re going to make it; we’re going to get there. LouisandHarry. We’re still learning _together,_ Haz. I’m counting on forever. I will trust you. I will be waiting for you to come home. I won’t leave you to love alone.”

“Are you mine, Lou?” he asks desperately, gripping his hips, urging him to a stance then backwards some steps to stare expectantly up at him.

“Yes,” the boy confirms in that lovely breathless voice. “Always.”

“Show me,” the Alpha commands huskily. “Show me. Play with me. Play your game. I want to play this game. Show me a new way to play.”

Nodding, the Omega takes his hands away, then three decisive steps backwards. “Give me your words, Alpha. Every five steps tell me what you’re feeling.”

Taking his silence as answer enough the Omega turns on his heels, takes the first round of five steps, then pauses. Swallowing around the constriction in his throat, Harry clues into the sensation hollowing his chest, “Fear–I don’t know what I will do without you. If you leave me, I don’t know how I’ll manage.”

Blessedly the Omega doesn’t respond, simply takes another wise five daunting steps. Again he focuses on the next wracking emotions, taking the dominant one, that one that floods the hollow. “Longing, I need you. Without you I have nowhere to find _me._ ”

The devotion cascading through the bond eases the sensations enough that he _can_ grasp whatever chrysalis shit’s been chafing inside; makes it unbelievably simple to understand every single unknown. To give the amorphous emotions _words._ “Hurt. Why are you leaving me? I need you, damn it. You promised forever.”

Without a doubt it’s tears that spear his eyes. Constricted by his ribcage, his heartbeat quickens the nearer Louis draws to the corner. “Understanding. I’m not worthy. I am not what you need. But I am _nothing without you._ ”

So close, so _far_ –five more steps. With every move the boy makes him feel like never before. Unbidden, the words take form, “Desperation. I need you. I need you and that is all I know.”

At the corner Louis extends one flighty hand so it flattens on the mantelpiece. “Determination,” it’s said with more strength, the animal flares with a vengeance. “You’re _mine._ I won’t– _can’t–_ let you go. You’re not allowed to love anyone else like this. Nobody can love _you_ better.”

Without turning again, the boy makes a little thrilled noise that makes Harry feel like this is _worth it,_ then nods. “Thank you, baby. Now, close your eyes and count to thirty. Don’t watch me go. Focus on you. Think about those emotions. Make concrete distinctions.”

If it’s worth anything at all, Harry forces his eyes shut, and works to do exactly that.

∞

            In a reverie, a _dazed euphoric state,_ Louis stumbles about, striving to find the mental map he’d created upon their exploration. It’s difficult, and he’s going to bruise from bumping into things, but he _manages_ to unearth _something_ once he touches a shelf to find there isn’t another which means he’s close to the entrance; must be. According to that notion, he’s twenty straight steps from the entrance (exit, whichever) and like he always does, he follows his intuition. Exactly twenty feet from the bookcase his extended hand lands on cool, smooth Oakwood; triumph makes him smile as he slides his hand around until it lands on the opulent handle, and his thumb presses down carefully on the latch. A sign from somewhere above: it opens.

Though unreasonably _heavy,_ Louis manages to heave it open enough to slip through, hands impulsively attaching to the wall, praying desperately he won’t bump into some priceless spectacle in his attempt to play.

As his rushed quick pace carries on, mellifluous emotion spreads through his veins and attaches to his nerve endings, his entire _being._ Love–endless rhapsodic _love_ warms him so much that he must be _glowing._ Inside his Omega is somnolent, purring proudly at his Alpha’s reassurance. But his euphoria drives him to act up, to tease, to tempt, to be _chased._ An instinct Louis still cannot understand even as it lades through him, makes him damp in his trousers (an odd sensation even now), aching, straining at his zipper. Warmth is all he knows in these moments.

Breathing quick, successive breaths through parted lips, Louis realises it’s surely been thirty seconds by now. And his Omega is all but panting, wants him to drop to his knees on the Persian carpets that have never been witness such sexual need, perk his bum out, and _wait for it_ like a good Omega. But Louis doesn’t want to be a _good boy;_ he wants to be _bad,_ so bad his Alpha will spank him, and own him, and dominate him (in bed at least).

Knowing this holds his Omega back, the promise that he’s going to get what he wants, but on _Louis’s_ terms is enough. Persisting, Louis ignores the steadily increasing heat, ignores the dizzying desperation to round another corner, completely aware by now that he’s lost, and he doesn’t know where he’s wound up. Pausing to catch his breath, the Omega listens _hard,_ catching the muted, but distinct footfalls.

Anticipation nearly floors him, but Louis levels with the wall, chewing on his bottom lip as he listens to the footsteps gain sound, close and forceful.

“Lou,” his name sounds so rough and scratchy and _meltingly luring._ “Where you at, love?”

Tilting his head into the wall, his hand’s twitch, but he doesn’t move otherwise, holding his breath. The footsteps are precise–testing. Without a doubt the Alpha knows where he is. And Louis is sure that he has less than ten seconds to make a run for it–but he doesn’t know _where_ to go, all he knows is where he came from. The threat causes his heart to flutter elatedly, but he doesn’t have a chance to weigh the options because he bolts around the corner he’d come from, assuring himself with the knowledge that these corridors are clear, but only so far. Of course he was right, the Alpha is swift behind him, advancing the more Louis slows, unsure of where the corridor ends (he hadn’t been focused, alright). 

“Right,” the Alpha tells him–instinctively, Louis starts right, shoulder brushing the wall, which works because now he’ll know when and where the hall ends. Perfect. Racing, the Omega breathes, “Let me _go_ already.” Really meaning _catch me catch me catch me and keep me._

“Not a chance,” is Harry’s sharp response. At the timbre in his voice, Louis trips up, shoulder catching the corner. Even stumbling, wincing, the boy forces his legs to continue, aware that it’s going to be over in seconds because he’s lost his lead. Again he is correct. An arm circles his waist; fingers lock in his hair and tilt his head backwards so his neck is bare. In seconds canines scrape against his bonding spot–some needy sound leaves him as his body becomes soft and pliable and melted.

“Welcome back,” the Alpha murmurs possessively enough that his breathing shakes, the pulsing length between his legs _aches_ like never before. Teasing him, Harry’s mouth brushes his sweet spot again, and Louis mumbles, slurred, “ _Please, Alpha,”_ thoughts reduced to simple needs and wants already.  With a low growl, canines lock on his skin and his tongue follows, mouthing wetly at him. Beginning to tremble, Louis mewls; squirming because he needs something _down there too,_ wants something pressed against him.

The desire pools hotly in his belly, and he squeezes his thighs together, but it makes it _worse_ for both aching places; his front throbs and his damp place clenches up.

“What’re you feelin’ right now, Louis?”

In attempts to hold out, Louis’s teeth lock on his bottom lip so hard it hurts, and blood tinges his mouth. Groaning, Harry raises his face, tongue parting his lips to sneak into his mouth, experienced and demanding. Around him the Alpha _blazes,_ and Louis mewls against his tongue, arching on his tiptoes, attempting to find what he _craves._ Nipping at his bottom lip, Harry forces him against the wall, gives him the support to lean on so his bum is flush against the bulge tenting his trousers. Flushed, on _fire,_ Louis doesn’t resist when he’s being jolted into the wall again by Harry’s hips; not when he’s being made to believe he’s going to be fucked.  Fucked. Thinking like that his breath catches on a moan, electric chills running down his spine, to the tips of his fingers, to his cock, and he tries breathlessly, “Alpha, my Alpha, Alpha.”

“How’re you feeling right now, kitten?” the Alpha demands hotly into his mouth–punishing him for pressing him for his emotions earlier. The bonding scent is so thick, laced in his mouth, intoxicating his every sense.

“Needy,” Louis pants, exposed and relenting to his Omega, “Needy, Alpha. Take care of me. Give me.”

Grunting, Harry tears away, and the Omega lurches upwards, needing Harry inside of him _some way._ “What do you want, love? You were so _bad_ earlier. You were so bad, and I want to punish you for that.”

Aching, Louis nods madly, head swimming with the masculine, _dark_ scent, with the need to be taken. “You’re so wet for it, too,” the Alpha groans low in his throat, large hand running down his side to his hip to his bum, taking one round in his hand roughly. “You’re always so wet for me, Lou. You always want to give it to me. Only mine to take. Mine. I’m going to wreck you. Get my cock inside you, knot you, _knot you first._ Get you… _Christ,_ you’re _mine._ ”

Again, Louis lets the Alpha spin him, placing his trembling hands on his shirt, yanking the button up from his trousers. Slipping his hands underneath the thin material, Louis feels the subtle muscles of his stomach tense, and stretches up to spread wet kisses up his throat. “Yes, Alpha. Gimme.”

With the words Harry’s breathing roughens, and both his hands are squeezing his bum until he’s panting against his throat, waiting impatiently.

“Mine.” The hands on his ass roughen with his breath, and Louis mewls, urging him on, the slick beginning to soak the material of his chinos. “Oh, love, you’re so sexy. You make me want it like nothing else.” When the Omega rakes his nails down Harry’s chest, he can’t help but question if this marks an Omegas inherent instinct to make sure an Alpha can handle him, or if this–rough, desperate–is what _truly_ pleases him sexually. Tracing the waistband of his trousers, Louis’s confidence lapses with the pressing thought, and he presses his nose to Harry’s chest to breathe, “Do I like this, Haz?”

Against him the Alpha tenses, then exhales heavily which makes him want to recoil. “You tell me, kitten.”

Louis mules over this; feels the warm wet, the coiled heat in his abdomen, the ache of his erection caught in his panties and trousers. “Y-Yes,” he decides with a face that must be on fire. “I like this. But I don’t…I don’t like this _feeling._ This desperate mindless feeling. I don’t want to lose myself…I need to be able to…to…” _stay me, not my Omega._

Crushing him impossibly closer, Harry breathes into his hair, “That’s why I wanted to take this slow, Lou. I didn’t want to press you too fast. You won’t lose yourself, baby. You’ll only find more of yourself–your Omega.”

As his Omega nods, satisfied with being _wanted,_ Louis whispers, “I think my Omega agrees.” _He’s ready to have you too._

“Good. Because ‘m going to have you both now.” In seconds he’s being hiked around the thighs and tossed over Harry’s shoulder, wiggling and giggling and _whimpering,_ “Haz!”

“Hush, Louis. I’m going to make it better.” The promise eases his movements, but with every step the temperature worsens until he’s flushed so _hot_ he’s sweating, and his thighs are so slippery with slick, and he’s trying to grind his hips _somewhere, anywhere._

A hand bears down on his ass, and he jolts, moaning as his erection pulses, and when he moves again it’s purposeful, testing his control. The second slap causes tears to form in his eyes as his mouth parts, and he fights his lungs to breathe at all. “ _Uh,”_ he’s mewling, scratching at the Alpha’s back until there’s a vicious curse, then his shoes are being removed, plunking to the ground. Afterwards he’s placed on lush material.

Stunned to be upright, his balance falters, but the hands splayed on his thighs hold him up. “Want you naked. You’re going to be naked, Louis.” No choice, not that he needs one right now.

Anticipation coils tight in his belly as he tilts his head backwards, mouth parted, “Yes, Alpha.” Tormenting him, Harry takes his time, toying with the material, then brushing his sensitive skin, but soon the chinos are being peeled down his legs, and he’s bare in sodden panties, in socks, and a white wool sleeved top. “Kitten, I don’t want to wait,” it’s a low frantic breath that makes the erection between his legs throb with his heartbeat. Two digits hook underneath the thin scanty thread of his panties, tugging them down in the same motion. At the cool air against his heated flesh, Louis whines, his erection leaking low on his belly.

“Turn around, love. Show me.” Its fumbling–he must be on a sofa because it sinks underneath his weight–until his back is to Harry, and he’s breathing faintly, unable to catch anything but that wrecking scent. The inferno is all he feels, hottest between his bum. “You’re so wet,” the Alpha breathes, and the awe in his voice is makes him do it, bend over the sofa and bare his bum. “So pretty.”

Louis moans into the material (leather?), hands clutching the cushions as the new sensation of slick trickling from where he’s clenched up, down the backs of his thighs and his balls and–, “Kitten,” Harry’s voice is barely a breath, but it cuts through the haze, stroking his hypersensitive skin. Mewling, the boy perks his ass out, waiting on the sound of Harry undoing his trousers, for the hot press of his cock where he _needs it so badly._ “Kitten…”

Little jolts build until the fingers tracing his spine leaves a trail of goose bumps, and he cries, “Please.” Tears ooze past the corners of his eyes to his fiery cheeks. “It hurts…It hurts.” A scream threatens to rip through him, the desperation needing _out,_ in sobs, in lashing actions.

“Wait,” the Alpha demands raggedly, breathing so rough Louis thinks it’s hard for him to breathe around the same need. “Let me go down on you, Louis.”

Confused, the Omega lifts his head slowly, blinking owlishly around the scalding tears. As the heat winds obscenely in his tummy, Louis stutters, “L-L-Like down _there?_ ”

This makes Harry laugh–harsh, throaty. “Let me show you how good you’ve been for Alpha,” he suggests leisurely, a proposition he knows Louis could never resist if the smug tone is anything to go by. Skilled fingers stroke over the curve of his ass as Louis gasps, pushing back into the touch involuntarily. “Like here. Right…” two long fingers sneak between the rounds of his wet bum as his body shudders against the sofa. “Here,” the rough pads of those fingers make fleeting contact with his swollen drippy hole. Yelping, Louis’s hips twitch, and his fingers clench so hard it _hurts_ as he nods frantically, “Pleasepleaseplease.”

Groaning that pleased sound, Harry’s hands splay over the backs of his naked thighs, and Louis whines in protest at the loss of contact where he _needs_ it, but he’s distracted when the Alpha kneels to mouth at his thighs, marking his skin until the pain becomes unbearable. Like this he’s crying desperately, wanting to touch himself, wanting Harry to touch him, wanting, wanting, wanting.

When it’s impossible to stay upright, his knees too shaky, Harry’s mouth runs up his thigh, tongue trailing wetly up the curve of his right cheek. “Oh,” the Omega whines breathily, devoured by heat, eyes springing open again.

An arm circles the bare of his waist, and he’s being tugged, finally allowing his legs to give out as he’s laid on the sofa; on his knees his back is bowed, arse perked out high, erection leaking and aching between his legs. “Stay like this, kitten. Just like this,” Harry orders more evenly, shifting to tuck a plush pillow underneath him, keeping him hiked. The cool crisp material brushes the hot head of his erection, and he jerks impulsively, panting against the sofa, breath hot and damp and frantic as his hips rut, desperate for friction. 

Low in his belly the heat is coiled tight tight tight. So close…so close…Large hands grip the rounds of his bum, rough and sure, spreading him like never before. Exposed like this, the Omega tenses up, but can’t find his voice, only frantic sounds as the slick thickens and drips. Growling low in his throat, the sound is _approval,_ and that he’s pleased his Alpha causes his tension to melt again, lances past the anxiety to the raging need to be possessed and owned.

Torture–a hurt so achingly _good_ as fingers dig into his sore flesh, and Harry dips down enough that Louis can feel the heat of his breath _there, against his hole, shattering him._ Arching, Louis cries into his arms, “Y-Y-You pr-promised me to– _uhh–_ make it feel be-be–,” closing the distance, his mouth is gentle, whisper soft against his secret place. “ _Haz,_ ” Louis feels the heat burst into flames in his tummy as the Alpha’s mouth parts, and his tongue is flat against his swollen virgin place. Convulsing, the boy feels the wet drag _everywhere_ and makes a broken noise high in his throat above Harry’s groan, “You’re so fuckin’ sweet.”

Spiraling into his orgasm, the scream comes from somewhere in his lungs as the heat comes apart in torrents of white-hot pleasure. As the strain leaves his body, the Omega shakes and trembles and it’s too much, too much…

Relentless, Harry’s tongue continues and continues to draw silky circles against his hole until little noises escape him, moans, exhales, sobs. Sensation reels and rakes through him and _oh yes oh yes oh yes._ The anguish is leisure, prodding at his hole like he’s trying to get _inside,_ and Louis wants it like nothing else, spreading his legs unconsciously, bucking back into it until Harry grows, holding him as still as he possibly can. Tracing his hole, the Alpha doesn’t _stop,_ and Louis never wants him to, doesn’t want him to stop making the wet noises with his tongue against his sweet place, to stop running his tongue up and down and around leaving sip-like pulls and kisses. “Haz,” he whimpers around little _mmm’s,_ nails raking against the sofa when Harry pauses to catch his breath, breathing rough and hot against his slick flesh. _“Please.”_

“Again, kitten?” he asks hoarsely, kneading his ass with those forceful hands until Louis is nodding wildly, squirming and gasping _“oh,”_ when his mouth returns to where he needs it most. Quick, sloppy around harsh growls his tongue circles his hole on and on and on with pleasure crashing into him again, flooding him with an unimaginable intensity; he’s pulsing, spilling against his sofa and the pillows and his tummy where his shirts been shoved up. The pulls against his hole, the urgent thrusts of Harry’s tongue sends the heat ripping on and on the same until he’s been coming for so long he’s all throbbing white-hot sensation.

Panting, flushed with his fringe in his face, Louis moans breathily, hips bucking from the sensitivity when Harry’s tongue catches the remnants of the slowing liquid, languid and slow and comforting. All the while the Alpha pets him with gentle fingers on the curve of his back, his sides, his hips, until his body gives. Sated, cooling, and protected, his breathing evens out and all he knows is _bliss bliss bliss._

Still breathing uneven, Harry takes the pillows back to turn him on his back; he mewls in protest as the sticky spreads on his back, but it’s short-lived because he’s being kissed on his throat, down his shoulders, his chest, and his belly. “You’re so perfect. So good. Mine,” the Alpha hums, stroking the hair from his face and he smiles sleepily.

“Only for you,” the Omega mumbles, thoroughly loved, falling into sleep.

“So, about those names,” the Alpha starts, teasing him now.

Louis whines, then shivers when he remembers how naked he is from the waist down, but doesn’t care much as his blood becomes syrupy. “Lemme sleep.”

“Names,” Harry insists.

“Tom and Maggie and Kira and Colin and Kevin and…” his voice fades when the Alpha shifts beside him, urges him towards the cushions so he’s curved against him. Against his back, the bulge is Harry’s trouser’s catches his attention; he mewls, turning onto his belly again, hands reaching for the button of his trousers.

“What’re you doin’, Louis?” the Alpha whispers. Groggily, he breathes, “We’re goin’ to make love.”

“You’re about to fall asleep, baby.” At the amusement in his tone, Louis pouts petulantly, “No ‘m not. We’re goin’ to make love. You’re goin’ to knot and bond me. And we’re goin’ to make love.” But his lids are drooping and his fingers are aching, trying to free the button though his effort is cut short with drowsiness. Like this the Omega falls asleep.

∞

            Gazing now the Alpha memorises his features again and again and again, marking the subtle differences that come with how the Omega’s fallen asleep–when he’s met sleep upset the little _v_ remains and his mouth is a little frown, when he’s met sleep exhausted his mouth is parted and his lashes flutter frequently, when he’s met sleep thoroughly fucked out is when he sleeps his best with his mouth swollen and red, almost smiling, and his damp hair a mess and his lashes shadowy against his sharp flushed cheekbones.

Whenever the Alpha shifts his movements are followed as Louis closes any distance, huddles and curves and shivers with the rewarded proximity. Unconsciously, the tips of his fingers brush the smooth skin of his hip, bunching the wool sweater to trace his side; it’s platonic and intimate, the only desire is to protect him when he’s especially vulnerable in sleep.

Time drifts until his phone buzzes on the carpet beside the sofa where he’d left it. Sighing, Harry attempts to retrieve the bloody thing without shifting too much, but it’s impossible, and he stretches until making his purchase. When the Alpha unlocks the phone he finds it’s the alarm that was causing the vibrations– _fuck,_ that’s right, Niall’s rehearsal dinner. In three hours–he’s never been so grateful to have an alarm, but that he _is_ says a whole lot.

Just barely managing not to groan, Harry realises there is no tossing the phone and ditching, there’s no sleeping, there is nothing but the inevitable doom (having to listen to Niall rant and rave about their belated appearance–they certainly won’t make it in time– _is dooming_ ). Through cautious movements, Harry takes his legs back (one was between Louis’s creamy thighs, the other _over_ those same thighs) then his arms (one had fallen asleep underneath Louis) until at last rising to an easy stance. Looking down at the sound asleep Omega the tired craving grows within him, and he wants to carry the boy to his bed and hold him and _fall asleep_ around him.

Sighing again, Harry forces his legs in motion, stepping into one of the first floor bedrooms across the corridor to pluck the plush crinkle-free blanket from the bed. Returning with it, Harry drapes the thick material over him (particularly his bare waist and below) then leans down to kiss his forehead chastely. An agitated sensation spears at him, and he realises that the Omega might wake before he’s returned, might have a nightmare, might try to find him and– _not happening._

Hooking an arm around his blanketed form, the Alpha hikes him a bit, then wraps his other arm around his waist, holding him against his chest. Louis makes a little displeased snuffle, but somehow doesn’t wake, curling close and mumbling into his throat, “Hazza. My ‘Azza.”

Warm coats his skin, almost uncomfortable, but not quite. He’s _this boy’s Hazza._ The mere words are warm like nothing else, and he has no defense against them.

Clutching him that much closer, Harry walks out of the room with a sleeping Omega in his arms and a blanket trailing them. As he carries on, the boy squirms, and then lifts his head, revealing foggy blues. “Whatta ya doin’, Hazza?”

“Taking you to my room.”

“Mmm. Let’s say we are mated. So now you have to carry me to the bedroom and we can start on the baby makin’.”

A throaty laugh escapes him before he asks, “Post-mating getaway?”

“Don’t need one,” the Omega yawns adorably, then rests his head on his shoulder again. “I am right where I wanna be.”

Those words cause his skin to crawl as he climbs the stairs mechanically, biting, “This place is hardly worthy.”

“Worthy of our lovemaking noises?” Louis teases, distracting him. “Now that’s a first. I’m sure the walls won’t mind, love.”

“Lovemaking noises?”

“Ya know,” the boy exclaims, raising his face again with an entirely disturbed expression. “Oh c’mon! I go like _this,_ ” he parts his beautiful mouth to release this sexual porn-star moan, then, “And you go: _bark bark_ and your tail waggles and you slurp me up.”

“I owe you ten spankings for that comment,” the Alpha growls playfully.

“What? Why ever? Kitten perked his bum out and puppy _did get thirsty!_ ”

“I’ve told you about that mouth,” Harry murmurs slowly, watching him fight that smile he’s claimed _his_ smile–the smile that Louis only directs at _him._

“Well you’ve got a filthy mouth, too, Haz. You said some dirty words on my birthday. And then you said some dirty words earlier. And then you did some _dirty things with your filthy mouth,_ ” his voice is matter-of-fact, but it’s breathy, and he’s squirming like he does. Reaching his bedroom, Harry kicks the door open, the shut behind them, noting passively that it’s been sterilized and cleaned to perfection, no sign of their clothes littering the carpet once again– _note to self tell them to stay the fuck out._

“I’m such a filthy boy, aren’t I, kitten?” he teases before dumping him on the mattress, listening to his gasp, then breathless giggles as he rolls around on the mattress, ruffling the blankets. In seconds the boy ends up on his belly, baring one thick creamy leg, face in his hands. “Let’s christen the bed, Hazza.”

“Your sex drive is incredible,” the Alpha mutters, sitting on the edge of the mattress to remove his boots. Just like that the Omega’s arms come around his shoulders, and he’s draped over his back, nuzzling his throat. Tension locks his shoulders. Louis is so soft. So petite. _Christ,_ he smells like a midnight garden. And Harry’s painfully aware that he’s hard again, the outline of his cock thick against his thigh. “I can’t help it!” Louis chides obviously. “I’m a boy close to his first heat.”

“The sex is certainly on fire,” he says lightly, forcing his hands to make quick, fumbling work of removing his boots, then unhooking Louis’s arms to stand.

As the Omega’s laugh chimes, Harry inhales sharply, then saunters into the connecting bathroom, pleased to find it’s untouched–toothpaste is smeared on the doublewide mirror, the caps to the hair products remain open, there’s a flower crown still hanging from a hand-towel post, and the stand-up shower door is still wide open with soap bottles carelessly open on the tile rather than the stands.

Snatching a fresh towel the Alpha peers through the doorframe to ask the boy curled underneath _his_ coverlet, “Can you manage to stay out of trouble while I shower?”

A little ball calls back, “I am _never_ in trouble! I’m a good boy!” _Yeah right._

Affection softens his stare as his heart does something stupid in his chest again. “Yeah. My good boy?”

“No, my mum’s good boy,” Louis retorts, sniffling, then, “Yes, you wanker, _your good boy. Now shoo!_ Leave kitten to kip.”

“Kitten nap has never sounded more fitting.” When the boy only sighs, Harry leaves the door ajar, strips easily, ties his hair back into a bun and starts up the shower. There, the Alpha ignore his cock to wash; the evergreen is a blessing that clears his senses enough that he can focus on what he’s trying to do. About thirty minutes pass with the heat on his shoulders until he’s out and relatively dry, tying the towel to his waist, then brushing his teeth and mouth, unable to help but smile at every time he’s watched Louis with a foamy mouth and shy smiles.

Pausing with the brush in his mouth, Harry wonders who Louis is when he _isn’t_ looking; does he shake his bum when he’s alone brushing his teeth, does he sit on the counter and swing sock-clad feet, does he make those silly faces… _God,_ he’s hellfire in love, able to sit here in the bathroom for however long mulling over Louis’s habits, over who he is, over how badly he wants to _know all of_ who he is. Smiling like an idiot, Harry finishes up, placing his toothbrush right beside the one that’s light blue with a clear-protector over the bristles.

From there he makes it a point to focus on holding his breath and dressing silently in pants, then the tightest, most constricting trousers he owns (mandatory black) before rummaging through his wardrobe until he locates a crisp untouched grey button up. When he walks into the bedroom again he’s still working to do the buttons.

“Hi,” the boy breathes caught in the blankets, bottomless blue’s peeking from an opening in the blankets. Another upsurge of craving crashes into him–has he _always_ made himself so _small_ underneath the blankets?

“Hey,” the Alpha mutters, quitting the buttons to lie on his back beside him. Arms folded behind his head to keep from touching, Harry stares in awe at the Omega beside him. Louis’s body heat seems to be doing something to him because he’s _on fire,_ must be, because his heart races, the buzz deliciously tight over his silhouette.

“How was your shower?” he asks tentatively.

“Refreshing.”

“You don’t sound very refreshed,” the boy mumbles, squirming close like he _knows_ that’s what he’s needing. “What’s wrong?” _Lots and lots are wrong…but you make me feel like absolutely nothing is wrong and that does dangerous things to me._

With his eyes Harry traces the curves of the magnificent chandelier overhead. All the while he whispers honestly, “Nothing at all, little one. Everything’s…perfect.” _Can we stay here, like this, forever?_

Silently, Louis sits up and in the same motion mounts his stomach. Like this Harry shuts his eyes so the sight won’t screw with him anymore than his imagination does. “Haz,” his voice is a lovely little breath as dainty hands brace on the muscles of his chest. “My Hazza.” On their own accord his hands splay over thick, flawless thighs, abruptly needing the support his soft silhouette offers.

Caught up in this still moment, the Alpha makes the mistake of inhaling through his nose–his senses are stunned with that flowery fragrance. A noise is torn from his throat as his eyes find themselves focused on Louis’s face. Straddling him, the boy is celestial; the soft light drifting from the bathroom dances in his scarily iridescent eyes, the bow of his mouth luring him like nothing else.

“Louis.” Around them the energy is tearing him down, the mental shield has been shredded, broken, ruined, _demolished–_ this should scare him. Yet…it doesn’t. Not anymore. Not ever again. A broken record plays on and on in his head; a dissonance, a lullaby, a crystalline elision. “I love you.” It’s his voice–it’s _his fucking voice._ And that’s okay…Better even. The weight of the words isn’t crushing. It’s not said in panic, it’s not rushed or angry. It’s sure as fuck not a lie. In fact it might be tattooed on his forehead and that would be okay because, “I just really love you, kitten.”

Craving his reaction, Harry’s stare is steady on the Omega as the little _v_ forms between his brows. “What?”

“Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for,” his voice, unlike his gaze, is unsteady, heartbeat an uneven thrummingin his ears. Like the words have only now touched him, Louis’s expression melts exquisitely, mouth parting as moisture glitters in those hazy eyes. “Haz…I think you just told me you love me.”

Petting his bare thighs, Harry whispers, “I did. I do. I love you. I’m so in love with you, kitten. It’s not–,”

“ _You love me?”_ his voice breaks, breaths catching as one hand clamps over his mouth, the other over his eyes. With Louis hiding from him, the Alpha’s confidence threatens to waver, but in seconds Louis’s dissolved into tears.

“Louis,” he tries weakly, confused like never before. Is it arrogant to think Louis should be _happy?_ Is he interpreting this wrong? What is supposed to happen once the words are out there? Is he supposed to leave again? Fuck, maybe he _is_ a bit nervous. “Why’re you crying?”

“B-B-Because I promised I wouldn’t _cry,_ okay!” the Omega whines so petulantly Harry’s mouth curves into an altogether relieved smirk. “But you’re making me _cry,_ you arse! You _love me._ You freakin’ love me, and it’s like…I’m shocked and happy and confused and I don’t know how to _react_ and–,”

Prying his hands from his face, holding them in his own, Harry breathes, “Hey. Don’t cry. I love you beyond sane measures, kitten. I’ve been thinkin’ those same words a month and some now…I just…Christ, how do these things go? All I know is that you’re in my head and I love you so _hard_ I won’t ever leave your side. I’m _here_ and _–,” don’t tell me to go again._ “You can mess with my head as much as you want. Wreck my heart. Make me _crazy._ Steal all my T-shirts, take up the entire bed, hell, Louis, say every cutting word you want, even if you don’t mean it. Just let me love you, too. Just don’t tell me no this time.” Damn it, now he sounds desperate… “I’m not trying to–,”

With another of those heart-wrenching noises, Louis shakes his head, “Stop it! Stop making me want to explode with…with _just!_ All you have to say is the word _love_ and I want to just…tear my heart out and hand it to you.” _I know how that feels._

Unable to help it, the Alpha laughs throatily, running his hands up his sides. “That’s some fantasy you’re entertaining, little one.” When the boy only shakes his head, sniveling and scrubbing at the stray tears, he whispers affectionately, “There are so many words I still want to say. But ‘m shit at expressing matters of importance. I don’t know exactly how to put this in any other way, Lou.”

“Good,” Louis says shakily, beaming brilliantly enough that Harry’s heart ceases to beat for the time. “My heart needs a bloody break. You ruin me, Haz. You–,”

Sitting upright, the Alpha splays one hand over his bare lower back, leaning in to nuzzle his throat, whispering, “I’ve never been this far in relationships…It’s not exactly my style, but I don’t care…You’ve got me in the palm of your hand. You’re all that seems to matter anymore. So in love with you it might give me a heart attack or something. Morbidly cliché, I know, sorry.”

“Gatta take the scant good with the endless bad,” the boy teases, then seriously again, “You make me whole. I love you more than… _oh man now you’re making me cliché!_ If there is one thing I refuse to be its cliché!”

“C’mon, kitten, don’t be like that. Let’s be cliché together,” Harry suggests huskily, realising the love of his damned life ( _damn he is cliché)_ is all but naked in his lap, and he’s more than ready to learn his every contour his every hollow his every edge again and again and again. Just like that his hands come to life–looping one arm around his waist Harry eases him up so his hand can take on perky cheek, kneading his flesh as the boy gasps sweetly into his throat. “I want you, kitten. Right now.”

A whispery moan is muffled against the skin of his shoulder. “Yes.” As the boy’s nimble little fingers twine in his hair, yanking in that painful way he fucking _loves,_ Louis plants open-mouthed kisses up his throat to his jaw. “Oh, yes, Alpha. Your treat for loving me so good.”

The laugh that starts up in his throat is cut short by the boys nip at his jaw. Raw sensation runs straight to his cock, trapped in his bloody tight trousers. Urgency rushes through him as his freed hand yanks the hem of his sweater up; understanding the Omega takes back his hands to lift his arms so Harry can remove the offensive material and toss it to the carpet.

And he’s tilted his head enough that his stare _bores_ into oceans, _drowns_ in that blind stare as two fingers curl, tracing his slippery puckered hole. With a little shocked sound Louis shudders viciously. Determined to make _him_ as desperate for it, the Alpha lurches upwards, claiming his mouth hungrily, teeth clashing as Louis makes that little _“uh,”_ noise that his cock fucking _loves,_ spreading his petal lips enough that Harry’s tongue thrusts into his mouth. Roughly, the Alpha traces the counters of his sweet mouth, teasing his tongue in time with the slide of his fingers against his tight little hole, dripping with that delicious slick, swollen for attention, attention his cock wants to give, pounding against his zipper.

In attempts to continue to meet his, Louis’s tongue is sloppy, inexperienced enough that Harry licks languidly at his tongue instead, swallowing his noises. But the boy doesn’t share the same need; no Louis is desperate to be caught on his knot. “ _Alpha,_ ” it’s a breathless mewl as his fingers circle teasingly. It takes every scrap of restraint to take his hand back. “Slow down, kitten. I can’t trigger you right now.”

“Trigger trigger trigger,” Louis whimpers mindlessly, tossing his head back beautifully, rocking against the bulge of his cock in his trousers. “I love you I love you I love you. Hazza, love me, too.”

Groaning at how the very words cause his cock to throb, Harry whispers raggedly, “I love you too, baby. Christ, I love you.”

“Then make love to me!” Kittenish sexual frustration electrifies their atmosphere as his little Omega shoves him onto his back so he can press his ass flush against his cock. The pressure is achingly _good–_ lost to it, the Alpha watches through hooded lids as the Omega rocks obscenely, his pretty cock flushed untouched, bobbing low at his tummy with his every movement. And he’s trying so _hard_ his face is flushed deliciously, his plush bottom lip bitten raw, eyes pinched shut.

A vibration interrupts–reality comes rushing with such shit fucking clarity. “No,” Louis cries viciously, collapsing on his chest, face damp with tears and sweat. “I-I-Ignore it _please._ ” Helplessly, Harry glances over though the boy drags his nails across his chest, hissing, “You pick up that phone Harry Styles and I am _never–,”_ reaching between them, Harry wraps his fingers around the pulsing hot of his cock. Against him, the Omega jerks, whining loudly. Sure and tight, Harry works him, teasing the wet head of his cock insistently so the drags are smooth and quick. It’s only seconds before his little body seizes up, and he’s coming thickly into his fist. Pleasure causes his head to whirl, Louis’s pleasure, _his_ all the same, flooding his bloodstream until it’s like he’s coming with him. “You’re okay, kitten. You’re so good. Feels better, yeah?” he rasps lovingly once it’s lessened enough.

“Mmm,” Louis hums contentedly, and it’s like all that energy dissipates with his orgasm, the temperature cooling drastically. Laughing huskily, the Alpha takes his hand back, wipes it on the sheets, then stretches one arm until his hand finds his still vibrating phone. Once he swipes the screen blindly it begins, “Where the _fuck_ are you two?!”

“Home,” the Omega mumbles as he rubs against him and purring into his throat. As his eyes roll so do his hips and _this is not okay._

“MY FOOT IS GOING TO FIND A HOME IN YOUR ARSE, LOUIS TOMLINSON!” Niall interrupts, sounding so _furious_ that Harry has to swallow the laughter building in his throat. “AND DON’T THINK YOU’RE ESCAPING THIS PAIN-FREE, STYLES. I HAVE TWO LEGS YOU KNOW!”

“Dear me, how– _fuck, kitten–_ could I possibly forget?” he bites, earning a little giggle and another lick at his right nipple from Louis. If being a twat means having Louis’s mouth tugging at his nipple ring then _fuck_ he’s all up for it.

“If you’re not here in the next _hour_ I’m telling everyone your cock is three inches!” Niall threatens.

“Ooooh,” the Alpha mocks, hand forcing its way into Louis’s hair to hold the boy where he’s at. This earns him another nip, a roll of the bar between Louis’s lips, and _fuck_ does it drive him _insane._ “I’m so…scared.”

“And I’m telling Jay the reason you’re not here yet is because you were putting that little thing in Louis’s bum!” Hearing this, Louis tenses, then moans in embarrassment, tearing away, “Oh my God! My mum! She’s going to _kill me!_ ”

Okay, so perhaps it’s best _not_ to test Niall and have his pleasure when he won’t have his ass handed to him by a very irate Mother.

“That’s right, Tommo! She’s been _calling you!_ But I suppose you were too busy shagging little dick over there to notice. You’re lucky I’m such a _caring_ person and told her you’d left the phone at H’s.”

Louis sits up, a sticky fucked out mess, face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Ni! We lost track–,”

“Save the bullshit. See ya in exactly an hour. Yer not here and I won’t forgive you.” With that the line goes dead. Guilt causes Louis’s bottom lip to wobble and the poor boy looks like his whole world is turning to ash around him. “Aye,” Harry murmurs, tracing circles into his hipbones. “It’s Niall, kitten. He’s not one to hold grudges. Especially not with you. I’m the one who should be worried. You just unleash those kitten eyes and he’s putty in your hands.”

Louis whispers guiltily, “I’m so inconsiderate! How could I forget this?”

“We might be hormonal inconsiderate sex-crazed animals, but it’s not too late to redeem ourselves,” he urges. “Come. Let me run the shower. And then get your clothes from the closet while I change as I’m a bit…stained. _Out, damned spot!”_ he shouts at the white streaking his shirt. Louis sighs, but can’t seem to resist laughing at _his_ reworking of Macbeth. “You’d be a fit Macbeth in your little skirt,” the boy whispers, scrambling to his feet so that Harry has to grab his wrist and steady him.

“It’s a _kilt,_ excuse you. And you’d be my Lady Macbeth, brainwashing me and shit. Real cute with your dagger-like tongue.”

Delighted Louis snickers, “Run my shower, peasant!”

“Right away, my laddie,” Harry attempts a Scottish accent, though Louis only snickers again so that he has to tap his nose in retaliation. “Ni won’t stand a chance against the crocodile tears, little one. Just a tip from a fool as in love as he.”

∞

            Arriving at the rehearsal dinner Louis is attached to Harry’s side–mostly because the Alpha’s arm is a chain around his waist. Okay with this, Louis stays happily, chatting with relatives that stop him with ecstatic shouts and welcoming. The noise might be uncomfortable were Louis unaccustomed to the Horan family. They’re greeted _insistently;_ some members of Niall’s family happen to be _quite_ interested in the British Council, and upon meeting Harry the conversations thrive. Beside him the Alpha is polite, charming, contentedly listening to the Northerners bash the Council, even commenting here and there. Mercifully his mum doesn’t seem too suspicious once Harry pulls the _‘got lost’_ bit, but that might be more so because the noise and drinks and Lottie managing to distract her with gushing.

Alcohol is a _must_ here, but Louis doesn’t dare touch any beverages in front of Jay, opting unhappily for sparkling cider. Still when Harry teases him, the Omega makes do–after some _begging_ and promises to never kiss him again and _I love you’s_ the boy has the Alpha slipping him sips of tart wine.

Munching on entrées, Louis follows Harry’s stroll with ease. All the while the Alpha whispers, “I certainly see where Niall gets it from.”

“Gets what from?” the Omega asks, puzzled.

“His brazen boisterous attitude…or his madness.”

“Ooooh,” Louis nods, understanding. “Yep. Welcome to the Horan family.”

“I like them,” Harry decides. “I like this…a lot.”

Brightening, the Omega huddles close, breathing into the collar of his shirt, “Me too. Goals?”

“Goals,” Harry affirms quietly, kissing his head fleetingly. “It’s so damned nice to not have anyone stare. I think this is the most comfortable I’ve been at a formal assemble before.”

“’S all Ni tonight. Shining Irish star, he is.”

“The shining Irish star is currently cursing his way through the crowd towards us. Shall we try to escape?”

Louis sighs, then shakes his head though he’s not so sure he’s in the right here. “Nah. Gatta face his wrath some time.”

“Suit yourself,” the Alpha answers tightly.

“I see you careless dickwads made it!” it’s an Irish hiss. Beside him, Harry’s shoved, and Louis stumbles with him right into some unsuspecting guest who curses then grumbles at Louis’s contract smile. “I am _pissed beyond belief. My leg is twitching. My fucking leg!”_

“Your tiara looks…dazzling,” Harry tries to evade like usual, then winces, pulling Louis in front of him.

“O! Don’t use the damn Omega as a shield!”

“You won’t hurt him!” the Alpha retorts, wiry against him.

“And what do _you_ have to say for yourself, Mr.?” Niall demands, obviously speaking to him now.

“You…You sound like my mum?” he endeavors to joke in a small, pathetic voice that even Harry winces at. When there’s only an indignant sniffle, Louis tries again, “A-And I’m really really sorry, Ni?”

“That doesn’t sound really really genuine, Lou,” the Omega says, but his voice shakes, and Louis’s throat is lined with emotion at the sadness in his voice. “If you wanted to be somewhere else tonight you could’ve given me a warning.” _Oh Ni…_ That the Irish lad is sad right now lashes at him, that he thinks Louis would _ever want to miss this_ does worse.

“Oh, Ni, no,” the Omega breathes fiercely, tugging at the arms bracketing his waist. With a reluctant breath, Harry takes his arms back to mutter blandly, “I’ll leave you two to your privacy.”

Unable to help the searing panic, Louis pauses, then raises his face, exposing his eyes to whisper anxiously, “You’re leaving?” _Are you trying to make me choose?_

“Only to grab another drink. Lord knows I need one.” With that he kisses his mouth softly, murmuring against his temple with open ears listening in on them, in front of an entire lot of guests and family and strangers, in front of _Niall,_ “I love you, kitten. I’ll be back in a bit.” The words are so _new, so lovely,_ that Louis melts with his heart skipping beats and tears threatening to crowd the corners of his wretched eyes. Someone makes a stunned noise (probably Niall) but Louis disregards this as his mouth softens into a _so-in-love_ smile. “Don’t take too long or I _will_ chase you.”

“No need, Louis. I’m coming _right back._ Later, Ni, sorry for monopolizing your right hand and being careless on one of your big days.” With that the Alpha squeezes his hand and then starts away, leaving a cataclysm of hushed gossip in his wake before Niall asks, thoroughly puzzled, “Did I hear that right?”

“I have no idea,” Louis sighs dreamily, shrugging. “I don’t even know if _I did._ ”

“Louis, I think…I think he just _apologised to me!_ ” Niall screeches. At the Omega’s answering deadpan expression the Irish boy bursts into delighted peals of laughter, “Only yankin’ your chain. Jeez, anyone with a _brain_ apologises to me! But those three words! Now _that_ is something to celebrate over all on its own. Come! Come! We’re going to then wine cellar to get… _Oh! Hey Jay!_ We were just on our way to…to…” the Irish boy knocks into him, and Louis takes this as a _help-me-make-an-excuse_ gesture. “To find Harry! Because I need my…my…I just need something.”

“Mmmhmm!” Lottie is entirely unconvinced by his mediocre lie. But it seems his mum has had a few drinks and kisses his cheek, murmuring, “Alright, sweetheart. Just don’t disappear together anywhere.”

“Yes, mother,” the Omega mutters, wanting to roll his eyes but resisting out of respect for his mother’s efforts to maintain his reputation, bless her.

Quickly the two make their escape, and Niall doesn’t bother with anyone, barking, “Outta the way! Outta the damned way! The special to-be-mated boy coming through! Oh, and his perfect best mate!” At some door they pause briefly, then with a little _click,_ it’s open, and Louis is being towed down what feels like endless stairs. At the landing, Niall mutters tiredly, “Alone at last! Damn this mating shit is exhausting! I swear my damned cheek is permanently red from being squeezed so much.”

Louis laughs lightly, “Ni, don’t be like that! Josh is probably havin’ to deal with the whole macho _you hurt my boy and it’s your head_ talks.”

“Pffft, like anyone is worried about Josh hurting me!” the Irish boy laughs like it’s hilarious. “If anything I’m also dealing with the ‘ _you hurt that Alpha and you’re in time out forever’_ talks!”

“Don’t blame ‘em,” Louis shrugs. Niall’s only response: a snort. Crowding the silence is the rummaging sounds of bottles clanking together until Niall makes a wickedly pleased, “ _Yes,”_ his _s_ is stressed into a hiss-like _yesssssss,_ “This baby is going to be _exquisite._ ”

Like when they were little boys, Louis follows Niall’s direction, and when the boy gives him a heavy bottle, he feels for the mouth and takes a swing. The liquid is _bitter_ on his tastebuds and he chokes up, but manages to swallow (not without some trickling down his chin). With watery eyes and a burning throat, Louis coughs dryly, “That’s _God awful,_ Niall!”

“That’s been _waiting_ for a time like this, Lou! Don’t waste it! It’s going to make you feel _amazing_ soon.” Judging by the _fuzziness_ in his head, the Irish boy is indeed telling the truth. So, he continues, taking little sips and making faces until he’s feeling _intoxicated,_ belly fizzing with alcohol, a bit senseless. Well, enough that he’s swaying, sniggering into Niall’s shoulder, “I _feel soooo nice, Ni!”_

Just as _giggly,_ Niall manages, “Me fuckin’ too! Aged liquor is a blessing!”

“’M really sorry for bein’ late, Niall,” he whispers, struggling not to giggle even now. “I know how important this is to you. And I shouldn’t have been so thoughtless. You’re my bestest friend and I want you to be happy and,” at this point he begins to ramble until Niall places a hand over his mouth.

“I know, Lou,” the Irish boy mumbles, sounding almost uncomfortable. “What’s important is you’re here _now_. And that’s why I’m so happy. I was so scared because this is…this is _it, Lou!_ I’m going to be _mated!_ It’s so surreal!”

Louis closes his eyes and tries to imagine _green,_ but he’s pleasantly intoxicated and there’s only a depressing black. “I’m jelly.  I wish we could get mated togetha.”

“Me too,” Niall breathes softly, sadly, though he brightens again, “But I reckon it won’t be long before ‘Arry pops the question.”

“Ya think?” the Omega asks tentatively.

“HELL YEAH!” the Irish boy erupts, crushing him that much closer. “Not one Alpha says the _words_ without intending to stuff ya with his knot and sink his teeth in that _good good_ place. H ain’t no different, Council or na’.”

Louis dissolves into delighted mirth. “He loves me.” The thought is so _funny_ because it’s unbelievable and _depressing_ that Harry’s stooping so low. “Dear God he loves me. Am I supposed to be sad about this, too?”

“Babe, yer tipsy.”

“I know,” he sighs, and then, “I think I need Hazza to feed me and carry me home. ‘Cause ‘m hungry. And a bit drunk. And hungry. And I can’t stand without someone holdin’ me.”

Through giggles, the Omega says, “Such a lightweight. Lemme call ‘im.” And he does (Louis doesn’t listen, swaying so his head feels _swishy)_ but when Niall hangs up he’s complaining, “Stupid Alphas. Always worrying. I’m goin’ to have to show face again. Everyone’s lookin’ for me. Including Joshua. I’m too popular sometimes.”

Louis shakes his already swimming head. “Nope! You’re Niall! And I love you!”

“Awe! Lou! You’re goin’ to make me emotional!” Just then there’s a muted sound and footsteps, then he’s being handed over to his Alpha, Niall kissing his cheek sloppily, then promising to see them in a bit. With the privacy, Louis purrs, rubbing against Harry. In seconds his face is being tilted in two fingers, and his mouth is parted against Harry’s, the Alpha’s tongue stroking his until he’s laughing into the kiss.

“Your lips taste like the sangria, love,” the Alpha compliments (or at least Louis _thinks_ it’s a compliment), breathing against his throat, arms keeping him upright. “You drunk, kitten?”

Louis blushes _hot._ “Will you be angry if I say yes?”

“A bit,” the Alpha admits, swaying with him, “But I’d be more so if you _lied_ and said no. Besides it adds ten more spankings to my three hundred count.”

At this, his mouth forms a perfect _O,_ and Louis bats his lashes at him, giggling (like the school girl he didn’t know he was but things happen he supposes), “What the hell did I do to deserve _three hundred?”_

“It would take too long to count off _everything,_ ” the Alpha tells him, and somehow Louis’s back is to his chest, Harry’s arms locked around his waist as the Omega softens, resting his head on his shoulder.

“I think,” Louis whispers, smiling stupidly. “That you _purposely seek_ out any little way to add onto my bum bruising.”

“Now how could I possibly do _that?_ You control your count, kitten. I simply _mark_ them.”

Around more snickers, the Omega teases, slurring quite a bit, “Then I dunno what I could’ve possibly done to earn _three hundred._ But since I control _my_ count I’m nullifyin’ all accounts.”

“Let’s take it to court ‘cause I sure as hell am not letting up on your _deserved_ counts, minx.”

Shyly, Louis giggles, then recalls something pressing, “Haz, you’ve seen me,” crooking his index finger he waits until Harry leans forward to finish in a whisper, “ _stark naked.”_

Seemingly pleased the Alpha begins to laugh boyishly, nuzzling his throat before breathing back, “You’re too beautiful for your own _good,_ kitten.”

A frown plays on the corners of his mouth. “’M not.”

“You are. Sometimes I don’t believe it either because nobody should _be as sexual as you, as innocent, as masculine and feminine all at once._ It’s criminal.”

A rush of warmth comes over him. “We’ll have to take this up in court.”

“I’ll win every time on _every_ account.”

∞

            Somehow the Omega makes it through supper without becoming sick (mostly due to Harry pressing him into drinking _only water_ and munching lightly). At the end the banquette hall is emptying with infectious laughter and drunken congratulations to Niall and Josh. Throughout Louis talks to Liam animatedly about his _absence,_ scolding him, then happily checking up on his best mate’s life; when they’ve taken a million or so pictures with Niall, Louis leaves the two with his mum to find she’s sobered up enough to investigate his prior tardiness. Stumbling through excuses, adrenaline sobers him up enough that the Omega convinces her until she allows Harry to take him on a wall whilst they help Niall’s mum pack away delicacies (whatever that entitles).

As they stroll their gloved hands swing between them, and the night’s wind manipulates wind chimes into playing their midnight songs. “Walks at night are creepy,” Louis tells Harry wistfully.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” the Alpha teases, squeezing his hand.

And Louis thinks he’s swooning and sighing in the same instant. “I’d sure hope so. ‘Cause the blind boy can’t really protect the _both_ of us.”

“I always have the difficult jobs,” Harry jokes though the Omega’s face falls, and hastily he looks away in attempts to hide this reaction. “Hey,” the Alpha murmurs gently, halting their stroll, “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“I don’t want to be a _challenge_ ,” Louis breathes sadly, lowering his eyes and swallowing around the tension in his throat.

“’S not only you, though,” Harry says, stroking his wobbling bottom lip. “It’s _us._ We’re a challenge. LouisandHarry against the world. Imagine that.”

Louis sniffles, working to paste a weak smile. “The whole world is a lot to be up against.”

“But we’re _LouisandHarry._ Nothing can come between you and I. Two stubborn temperamental boys.”

“Two stubborn temperamental boys in love,” Louis agrees thoughtfully. “Who’d of thought? “

“It was bound to happen sometime,” the Alpha murmurs, bringing him in enough that his breath is warm on Louis’s mouth. “I’ve figured it out, kitten. Love exists. And now I couldn’t see it in any other light.” As the bonding scent, darkly erotic, overcomes his senses, Louis grins mischievously, then licks his dry lips, turning away when Harry dips down to kiss him. “Ah, ah, ah. I think I’m going to _love_ challenging you, Haz.”

∞

            “Sit!” the Alpha barks, voice so sharply authoritative that Louis almost wants to sit too. Instead the Omega smiles sympathetically as Lilac on the other hand (paw?) doesn’t take the command quite so seriously as her answer is an adorable growl before she comes scampering to Louis, pawing at his left leg.

“Awe, lovely. ‘S okay, I know, I know. Daddy’s being so _mean,_ ” he coos dotingly, bending to scoop his puppy up, cradling her little form to his chest. With a pleased sound she stills, then paws at the necklace dangling low on his throat–the one he’d borrowed (okay, stolen) from Harry.

Seemingly exasperated, Harry sighs, and then tosses one of Lilac’s many squeaky toys (he knows as it squeaks in protest when it meets the wall). “I don’t even know why I try if you’re just going to coddle her every time I raise my voice, Louis.”

Against his chest Lilac rouses a bit, making another noise that sounds so much like _shut up already_ to Louis. “Awe, Hazza!” the Omega extends a seeking hand, smiling gratefully when Harry takes it and takes _them_ to the bed. “She’s _just a pup!_ ”

 “A _pup_ that’s chewed on three pairs of my shoes, that’s _bitten me,_ and that’s pissed on my curtains _twice._ ”

“You sound bitter,” Louis snickers, then lets Lilac patter on the mattress. “And she’s _teething!_ Nibbling, not _biting!_ And it’s only at you ‘cause you’re not being a very nice Daddy. She doesn’t do any of this at home. Plus she’s not potty trained yet. Mum’s still working on it with Dermot.”

“Get that _monster off my bed, Louis!_ I don’t want excuses! I’m sending her to the personal trainer or she _goes!_ ”

Thoroughly disturbed, Louis gasps, then frowns. On his side, Lilac pauses, then barks angrily at her Daddy. “Hazza! Don’t be so _mean_ to her!”

“She doesn’t _need to be on the bed,_ ” the Alpha grumbles petulantly.

“You’re lucky I’m not walking out of this very room right now with _our_ pup,” the Omega hisses, but decides he would rather _not_ have to listen to Harry’s attempts at training again, plucking a struggling Lilac from beside him, rolling on the mattress to kiss her soft furry throat. “Daddy doesn’t mean it, baby girl.”

“Daddy _so_ means it,” Harry bites back, then snatches a whining Lilac from his hands to place her on the carpet again. Before he can realise what’s happened Louis is flat on the mattress, and his thighs are being spread so Harry fits between them. Gasping, the Omega impulsively tries to sit up, but one wide, large hand splayed on his belly holds him down, and then Harry’s leaning down, braced on one hand. “You’re never leaving me. You’re mine. You. Stay,” the Alpha claims possessively, minty breath warm on his mouth. In seconds his lashes flutter, and he shuts his eyes though the Alpha orders, “Open them. I want to see your eyes when I’m talking to you.”

Though his Omega threatens to overcome him, Louis screws his eyes tight, and whispers, “No.” Above him, the Alpha tenses, motionless, then murmurs ponderously, “You say that word quite a lot. Too much. I’m still not used to it.”

“That’s too bad,” Louis breathes, mock pitying.

“Say yes.”

“Pfffft no. Screw you,” the Omega laughs, delighted and amused, “I don’t obey you. I never will.”

“I’m going to spank the _mouth_ out of you,” Harry warns, sounding grim enough that Louis thwarts his answering grin to toy with the ends of the waves brushing his cheeks. Between them, a delicious current sparks, and his heart begins to race.

“Now that’s not very pragmatic. My mouth isn’t just going to–,”before he can finish he’s being kissed with bruising intensity. Even as his heart lurches at the abrupt contact, Louis keeps his mouth strictly closed until his lips are pried open with canine nips and willful sucking that causes him to moan breathily. All at once his tastebuds come alive with the taste of mint, and his tongue is being stroked, teased, dominated. “Wait!” Louis gasps feebly against Harry’s mouth. “Wait.”

Groaning low in his throat, the Alpha retreats a bit, breathing ragged and hot against his bruising mouth. “What.”

Louis tries hastily, “Lilac is _in here.”_

Above him an entirely troubled sound vibrates from Harry’s chest, then he persuasively brushes their mouths again, encouraged by the moan Louis didn’t mean to make as his hips are tight against him, bulging erection prodding at his tummy. “She’s sleepin’,” his voice is a raspy drawl. Calling him out, Lilac barks a little contradictory squeak.

“Sound asleep?” he asks breathlessly, arching one quizzical brow.

“Dead to the world,” the Alpha murmurs roughly, shoving his hips into Louis who makes a little needy noise. “Please, baby,” he continues huskily against his jaw. “’S been five days. I haven’t come in five days. _Five.” Is that a long time?_ Louis thinks, then realises he wouldn’t know as he’s sore from all the times he’s orgasmed this week.

“Haz,” he protests weakly. “Our pup is literally _watching._ ” Certainly she is as she’s begun to bark and growl insistently as if to say _no touching!_

Groaning again, Harry mutters, “Would you like me to show her out first?”

Louis gasps innocently, tossing an arm over his eyes. “No! She can’t be alone out there! She’ll get lost!”

“Christ, a _dog!_ I’ve been cock blocked by a bloody _puppy!_ And it’s not even _Liam!_ ”

Confused, the Omega goes to ask when Harry rolls, flattening out beside him. “You’re a proper tease, little one.”

Louis takes his bottom lip between his canines, and then mumbles seconds too late once he’s come up empty on smart remarks, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I would rather please you, anyway,” the Alpha mutters. “But while we’re doin’ _neither,_ let’s go out on a date.”

Grimacing, the Omega asks cautiously, “Where?”

“Mmm. How about we go to one of those lame poetry readings? I’ll write you a proper little poem and read it to everyone over coffee?”

Unable to help the amount of joy this causes, Louis’s face splits into an enchanted grin. “Will you write about how my glowing orbs are bright enough to blind?”

“And how your tongue lashes at every poor fool to cross your path,” Harry agrees enthusiastically.

“And my lips are soft as cushiony pillows.”

“Now, now,” the Alpha laughs that extremely loved boyish laugh, tugging him to his feet. “Let’s not get carried away. Let’s save the gold for the poet.”

Like the little school-boy he is, Louis giggles coyly, then nods, “Yes. Yes, let’s.” Through giggly kisses and sweet _‘I love you’s’_ the Alpha helps him into his shoes, then hands Lilac over, who relaxes once safely in her Dada’s arms. With Harry’s arm around his shoulders, the Omega makes it down the never ending spiral stairway with his puppy _safely._ Once they’re on the first level, Harry attaches her leash then hands it over happily. As they’re making it to the exit, the Alpha curses, “I forgot the bloody keys. They’re upstairs…somewhere.”

Louis sighs, shaking his head sadly. “Of course.”

“Hey now! Some of us aren’t memory geniuses.” _I’m no memory genius…I’m forgetting as we speak._

Louis waves a dismissive hand. “Go get the keys, Harry. I’ll wait with the pup.” Claiming to be right back, the Alpha starts away. Once his footsteps have faded, the Omega begins to coo to his baby girl, then leans down to stroke her fine fur. As he does so the leash slips from his hands. In seconds, Lilac is skittering away.

“Lilac!” the Omega calls softly, patting his thigh in calling. “C’mere, lovely! Dada’s calling you!”

When she continues on her own, the boy considers waiting on Harry, but decides she’s not gone too far and he can listen to her pattering paws to guide him, walk straight, and pray for the best. Sighing in annoyance, Louis rushes after Lilac, hissing, “Little missy you are going to be in _so much trouble_ once Daddy hears about this!” As his shoulder catches the wall, Louis stumbles backwards, wincing. A solid figure catches his weight. “Haz!” he yelps, relieved. “ _Your_ naughty pup is running amuck!”

Heavy hands round his upper arms lightly, standing him vertical as Louis’s eyebrows crease in response to the silence. When he inhales through his nose dark, cold sensation needles at his veins. A deep accented voice answers his awful suspicions, “My son is otherwise concerned it appears. I cannot say the same for the canine, however.”

Horror washes over him. Defensive, he widens his eyes, mouth lax. “I-I-I’m so s-s-s-sorry, my lord. I didn’t…I…?”

“Des, please,” the older Alpha corrects, oddly…thoughtful.

Louis swallows, panic lining his throat. The whisper that leaves his mouth is so stupid his heart pummels and he wants to sink into the ground to never return. “Des. Sh-Should I b-b-b-ow?”

“You needn’t, lad. But if that would make you feel more comfortable, by all means.” Nothing possibly could. Behind his ears his heart is pounding, tummy knotted with anxiety that also makes his palm sweaty, tangling before him. It’s been so long since he’s been around another older Alpha, another father, and the terror is crawling up his throat.

Bowing his head instead (he isn’t sure he’d be able to rise back once he’s down again), Louis mumbles nervously, “I did not mean to intrude.”

“No, I do not suppose you _did._ ” In this instance Louis is unable to remember he has a _voice_ now, to remember that he’s not a little boy anymore, that he doesn’t need _approval._ It’s obvious he is unwanted by yet another father, that he’s no more welcomed by this father than he was his own, though the Council Alpha doesn’t say as much it’s in his brusque, yet charming tone. Louis knows charming, is _charmed every minute of every day._ Because Harry Styles is the epitome of charming–now Louis knows where it’s come from. “Give me your name. Given name.”

Louis swallows three times before choking pathetically. “L-L-Louis. Louis Tomlinson.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard much of you, Louis Tomlinson.” Humiliated warmth touches his cheeks. “From what I’ve heard you’re a brilliant young Omega. But I’m not quite finding this to be accurate.”

Some uninvited spark of annoyance lights up his chest–a streak he hadn’t had when he was a little boy. “The brilliant decision, my lord, is to remain quiet. One must hold their tongue unless spoken to directly.”

A low pleased laugh meets the space between them–it’s such a fatherly sound that Louis wants to recoil, horrified to be so close to an Alpha who may or may not be like his own. Instead a helpless chuckle escapes his mouth. “You’ve been brought up well.”

Some hideous satisfaction wells up in him at the unexpected praise– _daddy?_ “I would hope so,” he murmurs quietly. “Or I would be most unbecoming to my mother.”

“Don’t you take an Alpha’s word accordingly?” _I couldn’t then, I can’t now._

Louis wants to make a face, but schools his expression, raising his face to smile tentatively. “No, my lord. Honesty is not a basis of faction. It’s a basis of _person._ Therefore should not be attributed to a specific faction.”

Another shocked bark of laughter. “You’re absolutely correct, Louis Tomlinson. That’s a lesson unlearnt by many as of yet, however. Perhaps it’s better left unlearnt?”

Flushing to the tips of his ears, with his Omega scolding him for speaking without permission, Louis ducks his head. “If you say so, my lord.”

“Give me your opinion, boy.” Warm. Kind. An order even so.

“I w-w-wouldn’t want to offend you,” the Omega whispers, resentment bleeding into his tone. At least his words are rightly put…he simply cannot control his tone.

“Emotion would be essential to take offense, yes? Emotion I surely do not possess.” _Keep tellin’ yourself that._

Clutching the opportunity, Louis starts steadily, “Well, for one, everyone frets over factional knowledge, yeah? God forbid the Omega faction _know_ they have actual voices and choices of their own! God forbid the Betas realise they can _bond_ and _be bonded_ and are perhaps better suited to…” he lapses, thinking _that’s too far,_ but continuing smoothly, “God forbid the Alpha faction be _challenged_ though the lot claim to be invincible, Godly forces!”

“God forbid indeed,” the older Alpha encourages; the bite in his voice causes the Omega to flinch a bit, though his mouth doesn’t seem to have any intention of quitting. “George Orwell once wrote, and I quote _‘until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious’_ unquote. I always wondered why that literary merit wasn’t prohibited, but I suppose we would have to chat more on that. Anyway, don’t you think the factions _can_ rebel without the exact knowledge of what they are rebelling against? I believe the unlearnt lessons will drive them to seek these lessons all on their own, my lord. And _that_ might be scarier. Perhaps not, perhaps it will be sparked for whatever else reason. Maybe not today or the next decade but it _is_ something to lose sleep over, if you’re an Alpha, I mean. The power of ignorance is as evil as any weapon wielded, my lord.”

“I’m…impressed,” the Council male says, astounding him. “You’ve quite the mouth on you, Louis Tomlinson. And many thoughts. Both better left unprovoked. Weapons all on their own.”

“So I’ve been told,” Louis responds numbly. “But this isn’t a totalitar–,” before he can complete the sentence a hand takes his arm, wrenching him in the opposite direction. Gasping, Louis staggers, listening to the aggressive bark from Lilac this movement brings, and Harry’s likewise aggressive snarl. “Father.”

“Harry,” the Alpha responds easily, not even _son._ Unwilling to be knocked down _any_ by allowing Harry to force him into submission, Louis takes the Alpha’s arm, and yanks so he can bow underneath and stand _beside_ him rather than behind him. Right now Louis doesn’t need protecting, and it’s time Harry realised this, too. “I’ve recently become acquainted with Louis Tomlinson. Perhaps you should formally introduce us as we’ve met under entirely improper circumstances.”

The hostility radiates from Harry as his hand takes Louis’s, hold firm and possessive–so no handshakes, no bows, how could this possibly be anymore discourteous? “Father this is Louis. Louis this is Des Styles, my father.”

Louis smiles tentatively at the older Alpha his Harry dislikes so much.

“Yes we’ve learnt  _names,_ Harry,” the other Alpha murmurs so sneeringly that Louis bites his tongue to keep from scolding the Council male who’s obviously not as soulless as everyone believes. No, the male Louis had just spoken to is _nothing_ like the Alpha he knew once upon a time, the Alpha he wants to _come back, see how much he’s become, to see that it’s possible to love him now. But God Louis wishes He’d have loved him like He should’ve all along._ “Introduce us _appropriately._ ”

“Appropriately? What more can I possibly say that you don’t already know, Des.” The blood leaves his face as Louis comes to the realisation that the animosity between these two is profound enough that the testosterone levels are reaching their zenith–how can Harry dislike his own _dad_ so much? “I see you’re still taking the weak under your wing. I had hoped your cowardice had been overcome by the instinctive need to control. I see now that’s not the case.”

“Unlike _you,_ father, the miserable obsessive need to control hasn’t quite overcome me.” Louis notes how he doesn’t comment on defending the weak; his strength seems to wilt as he lowers his face like the weak pathetic creature everyone thinks he is.

“Remember who you’re talking to, _child,”_ the Council male warns, and the disappointment in his tone makes Louis want to curl in on himself.

“I couldn’t ever _forget, dad,_ ” Harry yields. The two have reigned in their tempers enough to talk civilly now, but the tension is bearing down on Louis’s shoulders, and he’s struggling to not run away from this. It’s too much. Louis hadn’t counted on meeting Des Styles. And now that he has he can feel his twisted yearning for a father’s guidance, approval, _love_ infecting the wounds he’d thought to be stitched shut.

“Nor should you, _son._ ” It’s final; an end that hurts _him_ like nothing has in a while, driving deep into his wounds. Louis inhales sharply when his trembling hand is taken in steady, rough aged ones. A comforting kiss is pressed to his knuckles, and not even Harry’s rigid stance can take away this _wanted sensation._ “It was very lovely to finally meet you, Louis Tomlinson. Even more so _to speak with you_ while my son wasn’t humiliating himself. I should hope to see more of you, if you wish it. You would make a _fine_ philosopher.”

Without another tender kiss his hand is returned, and Louis holds his breath as the Council Alpha leaves them. The immensity of emotion reeling through him makes him want to breakdown, to scream in agony because his _head hurts like its only hurt when he was a little boy._ All he can think is _daddy daddy daddy._ And it’s flashing behind his stupid eyes that don’t see _anything,_ so it must be his imagination conjuring images of _furious, frozen eyes and red red red pain._

Clutching his head, Louis mumbles helplessly, “No. Nonono.” All the while Harry is in his own frozen state, neither helping nor hurting.

They are there…in their own Hells. And life _just_. 

∞

            Before sunset arrives, the Alpha reluctantly hands his keys to a valet who wisely waits as Harry rounds his Audi to open the traveler side, helping Louis to his feet. Right now the boy looks so fragile dressed in a denim jacket where underneath one of Harry’s white T-shifts is tucked into sinfully tight denim trousers rolled up reveal delicate ankles with white plimsolls to match. Taking the duffle from his shoulder earns Harry a small tight smile. Unspoken words are long-drawn-out between them. Implicit words the Alpha would rather stay that way, but their coming to light is inevitable.

Just like that, the burden over his chest augments; its inky _wax_ lines his bones and organs and veins and vessels. This sensation is becoming quite tedious recently; though he can’t put an exact name to the feeling the reactions to it are undeniable. Reactions he doesn’t act on. Because…well basing someone’s face into the wall, screaming until his voice-box is ruined, pulling all the twisted shit out of his brain from his mouth isn’t _appropriate._ Huh, funny that rotting inside _is._

“Harry,” Louis speaks quietly. “My wrist.”

Returning to the present, the Alpha realises he’s curled his fingers around Louis’s wrist, his hold unbreakable, painful. Slowly, numbly, Harry eases his hold, prepared to take his damned hand back and shove it in his pocket when Louis twines their fingers. With innocent eyes, the boy implores, “Gentle.”

Unable to lash out at Louis, Harry swallows, nods, and takes his hand as careful and soft as Louis deserves. As they’re walking, bustling servants trip up, gawking at their appearance. Many of the Alphas seem to be in awe, the idiots provoking him by running their nasty tongues along their pathetic canines. Baring his own incisors, his Alpha clashes with him, flashes in his dilated eyes; eyes that watch them murderously as he continues to steer Louis up the marvelous spiral stone stairway leading up to the terrace where the two Oakwood doors are wide, spilling light onto the drive. Smirking, Harry pauses to salute the shits, then steps through the entrance.

A bloodred carpet stretches on and on to the massive ceremonial cathedral. As the estate is dated eras back to the Medieval times, the pointed arch entryway is adjoined by proud knights on either way. Amass of wiry pallid lights dangle low around their helmets which makes Harry smile crookedly, proper accessory choices, the Horan’s have.

The pillars marking the corridors are decorated the same. Cascading from the ceiling is thick velvet crimson curtains that veil what lies beyond. What happens to lie beyond is an older, seemingly frazzled female Omega who parts the thick shades to cry, “You’re here! Thank God! We’ve been waiting on you! Come!”

Already in acquaintance, Louis smiles, embracing the female who kisses his cheeks, “Niall is so lucky to have you!” then she leans in close to breathe, eyeing him like he’s a culprit to some crime, “I require backstage passes to your ceremony.” When she pulls away Louis’s cheeks are rosy, and Harry cannot help but smile, pleased by his Omega’s ruffle though he cannot think much into it as he’s pulled into a warm motherly embrace, “Harry! Harry Styles! My is it nice to finally meet the Alpha who’s captured our Louis’s heart! I’m Maura! And I’ll be your _worst_ enemy if you don’t treat him well! He deserves the world! With that outta the way, so glad to have you, dear! Oh! I hear you’re my boy’s Holder! Congratulations! Now I’m getting ahead of meself! Come! Liam is waiting with Gregory.” A bit overloaded, Harry tries to keep up, except he’s a bit caught on the Holder comment. Like that’s _such_ a privilege–then again it _is_ a privilege, never taken lightly. And Harry wonders how the chosen Holders, as personal _friends_ of the mated, can stand to slice into their skin and know they’re causing them excruciating pain that’s only numbed _lightly._ Then again…to know you’re granting that same Alpha the Omega (or Beta) of his or her _dreams,_ the official testimony…Well it’s all well worth it.

Before he can think to respond the female grabs Louis’s arm and tows him through the opening in the drapes. “Now! Niall’s ritualistic blessings are about to start! You’re _just_ in time. I hope Harry here went through the procedures with you, baby, yeah?”

“Yes, Maura,” Louis nods, reciting, “No speaking. No skin to skin contact. And then the…ceremonial events.”

“Excellent! Proper Alpha! You’re ready! You’ll be fine!”

Behind the drapes are endless doors and corridors adorned accordingly, priceless paints of ancient Council Alphas Harry can name right off the top of his head (like he’d _bother_ ) line the walls, statues, knights, windows with breathtaking views of the scenery. The Gothic architecture is extremely spectacular. But there is no time to properly soak up all its glory as they’re hustled through some doors and into a shaded, candle lit spherical chamber. The irregular vaulted ceilings are illuminated by dancing flames; the stained pointed windows do not allow any moonlight into the aesthetically pleasing chamber.

Cloaked forms ghost around the rooms walls, fluently reciting primeval prayers, burning sage that clouds the room, clinging to his senses. As incense adds to the already overcast air, Niall’s mum helps Louis into a black, whispery cloak that swamps him, then place a time-honored heirloom around his throat, rightfully worn as Louis _is_ Niall’s first chosen. Catching sight of Liam and (who must be) Gregory on the otherside, the two watch blankly, giving no expression though their eyes speak in measures: _worry._ Assuring them that he will take care of his Omega, Harry nods, and then it’s his turn to shrug into his cloak.

Underneath the cloaks, Louis shivers, face partially concealed by the shadows, but he doesn’t need to see his expression to know he’s nervous; he’s trembling with anxious hope. As skin-to-skin contact is strictly prohibited, as well as speaking, the Alpha closes the space as much as allowed, relieved that the proximity eases him a bit.

Footsteps echo on the marble before another small cloaked figure emerges from a well hidden passageway, followed by seven others (seven is mandatory, thought to be the Holy Number). Raising his face (though he’s not _supposed to, bloody Irish carelessness)_ the boy gives him a helpless _are-they-going-to-kill-me?_ expression. Careful to make sure nobody is aware of the silent communication, Harry shakes his head a fraction, then smiles, encouraging him until Niall ducks his head again.

Anticipation coils with the smoke in the chamber as the priest appears from the passageway opposite to where Niall had emerged. Wraithlike, it’s almost like the Alpha is floating over the ground as his chasuble follows his movements. Harry can’t catch what is held in his trembling, worn hands, but he knows without a doubt what it must be.

Upon the priests entrance, Niall is place in the very center of the round white carpet, kneeling, bent over in his bloodred cloak. The seven huddle around him, leaving the forefront opening for the priest, who motions with his hands to commend them into position. As the seven take three, unison steps backwards, dropping to their knees, Niall is revealed once again. But there isn’t time to imagine much as the priest motions with his hands for _them_ to take _their_ respective places. Unable to touch, the Alpha takes Louis’s cloak to carry him forward, weaving through the stones-still figures on the ground. Soundlessly, Harry and Louis kneel at Niall’s right, Liam and Gregory on his left.

Clearing his throat, the priest begins in a withered voice, “Gather we hither to tender blessings upon the Chosen. Let us dost as is Holy will.”

Tapping Louis’s thigh as an indication to speak, though it’s a bit off-key, the four concur, “Aye.”

“Verily the joining betwixt the two be most beauteous. I bid thee to concur in Holy Spirit.” The seven stand to advance on them–protectively, unable to help the instinctive response, Harry jerks Louis forward so he’s covering the smaller boys, two small bodies that need protecting, and that it’s his task to take on is okay with him. As the two Alpha’s follow his instruction, they work to veil Niall and Louis from the pebbles being pelted bitingly at them. Hands grope at his shoulders, doing the same to Liam and Greg, but the attempt to undermine their blessings, their force, is in vein as the three hold their weight under the needling. _Niall better love me for this._

When the throwing ceases, the three release low relieved breaths, though it’s _hardly_ over. The hands disappear, then it’s quiet excluding the whispery drag of drapes bordering the carpet. As soon as the sound ceases, the next is muffled splatters of liquid. _Gas._ As his face pales Harry realises they’re _doing this, they’re actually setting the fire._

Christ, he had hoped this wouldn’t be included–like hope has gotten him anywhere _before._ Closing _any_ distance, the Alpha leans over where Louis is resting his head on Niall’s shoulder to breathe, “Alright, Louis. The hard part is coming. Just try your best to stay calm. I’m here, love. Nothing will happen to you.”

With a heart-wrenchingly scared noise, Louis clutches Niall, who also attempts to sooth his nerves, “Don’t panic, Louis. This is why I chose Liam and Harry and Greg. They’re perfect for this sort of thing. We’re good to go. It’s going to be fine.”

“Silence! Do not disrupt!” the priest interrupts sharply, then when everyone pauses, caught, “Carry on, Chosen.”

There’s the quick forceful skate of a match and then… _fire_. At one point, the Alpha recalls vaguely being the one to spark such flames, recalls watching impassively as Alana was protected by the bodies of her Chosen. Retreating to the shadows to bear witness to such loyalty, an unbreakable bond. Now, the one surrounded, he tries not the panic for Louis’ sake, remembers that the fire is completely controlled, but he damned near panicking as the seven carries close. Close to Louis. Close to Niall. Jesus, how had those Alphas held onto the defenseless without attempting to truly protect them? Well _fuck_ if he knows, but he’s sure as hell doing the same.

As the flames progress through the drapery surrounding them, Harry holds motionless, abstaining from breathing as the heat-waves swelter and begins to ache at his back. Liam winces, then curses, and Harry almost smirks; at least someone else is suffering in silence with him. Surely that’s not quite so heartless to think? Probably is, but what’s one more fucked up thought.

Halting these thoughts the priest begins to speak fervently, “May the roof above never fall in; may we below never fall out.”

“In faith we say,” a unanimous blessing.

“May the longtime sun shine on you, your mate, your young, all the love surround you, your mate, your young, and the pure light within you, guide you, your mate, your young, unto the way. Akal, Akal…no end.”

“In endless faith we say.”

Seconds from what feels like scorching, the Alpha clenches his teeth; he’s beginning to sweat, the cloaks smothering him, and struggling to breathe evenly around the smoke spearing at his throat and staining his lungs. Underneath him, Louis begins to thrash, his panic swiftly intensifying with the passion in the priest’s fire.

“Shh,” Harry soothes as quietly as possible around the crackle of the furious fire. “It’s not going to touch you, baby. I promise. Don’t panic.”

“Why’re they _doing this?”_ Louis’s voice breaks with desperation.

“Louis, stop,” Niall whispers hastily, “Please. It’s almost over. Just one last chant.”

Under the command, the Omega stills, though he turns his face into Harry’s cloaks, breathing frantically there. “May God be with you and bless you. May you see your young’s young. May you be poor in misfortunes and rich in Blessings. May you know nothing but happiness from this day onward.”

“ _In faith we bless.”_

As theatrical as these rituals tend to be it doesn’t come as a surprise when the fire _bursts_ (catching him in the back) to its abrupt death. In its wake are dark clouds of thick sickening smoke that causes Liam to toss an arm over his mouth, coughing, and Gregory to moan in disgust. Pressing the cloak to Louis’s mouth, he rasps, “Breathe with that over your mouth.”

As the seven retreat, Harry holds Louis’s trembling form around the waist. The ritual’s closing approaches as the priest kneels before Niall, tenders his lips, and transfers a Holy Grail to his mouth. The Irish lad chugs the wine happily–drunkard.

“You shall bring such blessings to your union. You are worthy of your Alpha now. May your souls settle unified evermore.”

Again the priest stands, this time to kiss their mouths one by one (his mouth on Louis’s sets his Alpha on edge, but the contact means nothing but sanction…but _damn it his mouth is supposed to be the only one),_ “Your strength and bravery are not in vain. Each of you shall find the soul to match yours.”

With that the priest walks backwards to the door (not allowed to turn his back on his blessings). When it’s _finally_ over, the Alpha tips backwards on his hunches, wheezes as Niall takes Louis out of the now ashen room through the back passageway. Sweaty, panting, Harry picks his sorry arse up and drags himself through the same doors as Louis and Niall with Liam and Gregory hot on his heels.

Outside of the room cool, fresh air causes his lungs to expand gratefully enough that he braces on the pillar, shoving damp strands of his hair from his face blindly. A few moments of ringing ears and panting breaths pass before he scrubs his face with the back of his sleeved hand, lowering the hood to survey the room through rapidly blinking eyes.

It’s a ballroom, massive, with steps on either side of him leading up to what must be the same tables set up with elegancy. As he surveys Harry servants bustle in with bouquets of flowers and other décor, shooting them sympathetic looks as Liam is bent over beside him, still gasping, and Gregory is sagged against a pillar.

Louis and Niall are nowhere to be seen though he’s not especially concerned, the buzz telling him the Omega is relaxing by the second, taken care of by Niall.

Just then Niall’s mum comes rushing in with a disapproving look in her steely eyes. “You lot are filthy! You’re ruining my décor! Shoo! Go through that door,” she points to the exit at the very far side of the ballroom. “And up the spiral stairway! Any room on the third floor is yours. Now _out!_ ”

As she starts away, she mutters darkly, “Alphas. Bloody things.”

In disbelief, Harry decides he _really_ sees Niall in that woman, but doesn’t bother to say as much, shaking his cloudy head and stare wishfully at the door that’s so damned far away. With more force than should be necessary, the Alpha starts for it with the other two grumbling Alphas trailing him sluggishly. Through the door there are a million pathways to choose, but he starts up the spiral stairway as directed. The flights continue on and on and on and he’s damned thankful to only have the third level. There, he heads down the hall to the very last room, shutting the door behind him only to realise he’d let Niall’s mum take the bloody duffle with all the _clothes._ Groaning at his idiocy, Harry rips out of the ruddy cloak, and then goes to the bathroom to wash his ash-smeared, sweaty face. Significantly cooler, Harry evens his wheezing breaths, braced on the counter with his head bowed.

A long while Harry holds this posture with his muscles screaming as his mind does the same. But he blurs the thoughts until they’re a muted, annoyed hum–better than nothing.

Scrubbing at his eyes, the Alpha spits, “Fuckin’ ritualistic bullshit.”

“Now now, that’s no way to talk about tradition,” a pert voice says. Looking over, Harry finds Louis stands, fidgeting in the doorway with the duffle strapped to his shoulder. Darker now his hair is damp, smoothed back to reveal his eyes, which are rimmed with red though the cobalt of his irises are bright again. Dressed in a loose top, those bloody tights defining his thighs, and socks that say _suck it,_ the boy looks so welcoming, the calm serene he’s craving so desperately. “Niall brought me,” he explains nervously. “I’ll be bunking with him tonight. But I thought you might n-n-need this. He’ll be back in a bit…”

Voice a rasp, Harry tries, “Tradition _is_ such a bitch sometimes.” Then, much more prodding, “Are you okay, kitten?”

Louis takes his bottom lip between his little canines and nods. “Yes. I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“A bit charred,” he jokes halfheartedly. “Hope you like your meat well done.” As the boy struggles against one of the blessed smiles, Harry admits, “I didn’t like that.”

“Well,” the boy shrugs. “It was an experience.”

“I did not like that. I did not like the notion that you were in danger. And I felt wild with the need to protect you. And I voided covenant by touching you…but I had to. I couldn’t…I couldn’t let them throw shit at you. I couldn’t let them take you away. And I couldn’t let them _get close_ to burning you.”

Blind eyes soft the Omega shuffles forward, dropping the bag when Harry straightens. When he’s close his dainty palms flatten over Harry’s chest, right over his heart, and he breathes, “You protected me. You kept me safe. I was okay. I didn’t feel a thing. Only you. You’re all I felt. I was scared for you…I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Swallowing around the emotion forming in his throat, Harry breathes hoarsely, “I will always take care of you. I told you that, I meant it.”

“Always taking the weak under your wing?”

At the mirrored words, even coming from Louis, the Alpha tenses, then snaps, “You aren’t weak.”

“Then why didn’t you say so to your dad?”

One more repulsive reaction that tears him down–the fear of discovery stabs at him. And like the coward he is, Harry looks away, ashamed. “I…I can’t say.” _Liar._

“You can’t or you won’t, Harry?”

Body charged with latent rage, the Alpha mutters, so sickened with his inability to _cope with anything_ , “Both.” And it’s these times, times like _this,_ he wants to split out of his skin, leave everything he _is_ behind, even knowing he _can’t._

Like he can sense the anguish of conflicting thoughts, Louis whispers, soft with effortless understanding, “C’mere, Haz. Come to me.”

Losing his breath, Harry croaks, “I’m right here.”

“C’mere.”

With a distressed noise, Harry’s composure threatens to crumble when the boy pivots, feels around for the doorframe, then holds out his hand. Taking the small hand in his, Harry tells him numbly, “Straight.” Of course the Omega listens, walking straight until his thighs meet the extravagant mattress. Parting the canopy hastily, Harry lifts him by the hips onto the bed, then crawls, following as the thin canopy falls into place, leaving them in the dim. Shaded in their own little space, the Alpha lets Louis bring him down so he’s weighing the small boy down into the plush mattress.

Hands scrunch and coil in his waves, calming him though he’s worried he’s crushing the poor boy. “I’m fine,” Louis assures, seeming to know his thoughts, scratching at his scalp the way Zayn does, only _better,_ “Relax.”

Listening despite his better mind, Harry rests his head on Louis’s chest, listening to his fluttering heartbeat as his arm circles his waist, holding him. “You’re so heavy,” the Omega says a bit breathlessly. “I love it. You make me feel so whole. So _together._ ”

Squeezing his eyes strictly shut, Harry mutters, “Tell me when it’s too much.”

“Too much for my body or for _me?_ ”

“Both.”

“’S never too much for _me,_ silly.”

Possessively, the Alpha says, “I like that. Don’t leave me. Never leave me, kitten. You’re mine.” And he’s clutching like he’s never clutched him before, almost vindictively weighing him down to make sure he _can’t_ go. “I’m such a selfish fuck. You could do so much better. But I can’t _let that happen._ I can’t. Going without…” his voice breaks, betraying him.

“Haz,” Louis mumbles, running his fingers carefully now. “You’re not selfish. You’re an Alpha. That’s how you’re programmed, silly.”

“One day you’re going to hate me for doing this to you.”

“Doing what?”

He swallows, hard. “For letting you love me. For loving you back.”

Louis sighs beneath him. “Now who’s being completely ridiculous? You’re _not letting me do anything._ I’m going to love you regardless, Harry. So get used to it.”

“But…I…I’m ruining you for anyone else. You’re seventeen. And you haven’t tried any other relationship out. Maybe I’m not…who you want. Maybe I’m not who you’ll want in a year from now.”

“Maybe.” The mere word threatens to shatter him–to shatter the denial that’s kept him sane all these years. “But I’ve learnt the word maybe is so indefinite it can hardly even be taken into serious consideration.”

Confused, desperate, the Alpha demands, “What does the mean.”

Without warning the boy’s apprehension, his terror, flashes across the imperceptible bond that’s held them tied since the very beginning. “When…When I was little…I used to think _maybe_ I could force my eyes to keep doin’ their job. Then…maybe I could make my…make _him_ happy. And it was the damndest thing…sometimes they’d blur a bit but I’d think _not again_ and as soon as I focused past the pain…they w-w-ere fine, and I saw with clarity…and it was somethin’ else, Haz, it really was. But you know what?” Dark knots form in his chest, waiting with claws extended. “Didn’t change a _damned thing,_ Harry. I was _normal,_ I _functioned,_ I _saw,_ and I didn’t even _cry_ around him. But it wasn’t _enough,_ and I realised that the damage was already done…”

The knots coil around his heart, constricting until his voice is a weak protect, “That wasn’t your–,”

“Yes, you’ve said it wasn’t my fault. But listen. I remember…i-it was okay sometimes. Even when I was in the hospital, Haz, it was okay because he’d stay nights with me when mum was working graveyard shifts. A-And he’d crawl into the hospital bed and read me bedtimes stories…A-And I c-could leave my eyes open even though my vision was still bein’ stupid.” Beneath him the boy laughs unsteadily, distress leaving its disturbing trace. “It was so…It meant _everything to me._ In the hospital it was _good!_ I didn’t k-know _why,_ but when I was in the hospital it was…okay. But t-then a few days after my temporary release…I remember falling asleep. When I w-w-woke up they were arguing, mum and him. He was so _angry,_ Haz. He was yelling at mum b-because…” his hands clench in his hair before his voice is barely he breath, “he wanted me to just die already. S-S-Said he’d been waiting for the nurses to wake him up and tell him it was _over._

“So I peeked through the door…and he saw me. And I didn’t un-understand the words, but I didn’t want him to be angry so I thought I’d like…” his voice shakes, “I’d like tell the nurse to wake him up and like tell him that? God I was five and so so stupid. So I opened the door and he saw me. I don’t know how it happened…it was really fast? But he took me by the hair and like shouted something like _‘just die already damn it’_ and shoved me to the floor. M-Mum was screaming at him…I hit my head pretty hard…it hurt a lot. And then the black came back. After that…I decided _maybe_ couldn’t help me. I just had…I had to be _good._ And s-s-surely then everything else would be good again too.” After a painful pause, “I guess I couldn’t ever be good enough. Nothing changed. Even now…nothing’s changed with him…That’s why I keep telling you change is better. There’s no _maybe_ or _could be_ to it…Change is better.”

The ominous sensation spreads and slithers consuming him with the craving for crimson blood. Crimson to stain his hands, to sate the animal…to _sate him._ Not nearly compensation enough but _fuck_ nothing will _ever amount to enough._ Not with this, never with this. Beneath him the boy breathes faintly, “You know what _has_ changed though?” _No because all I can see right now is a little blue eyed boy terrified and hurting for a father that could never seem to love him._ Insanity must feel like this, poisoning his mind around the malicious hisses. Weaving with the rage until his canines are protruding the Alpha trembles, unable to respond. “What changed,” Louis continues, “was me. I changed. I think…for the better.”

Against the fury, love swelters, running through his veins hot as anything else. It’s in his DNA to love this boy. And _fuck_ does Harry _love him._ Sitting up on his knees Harry swallows thickly, avoiding those glassy eyes to breathe, “I want so bad to understand. I want to understand _you._ I want to _know_ your pain. I want to make beauty of our storms. But nothing is… _lucid?_ It never has been with you. I struggle in the middle of your tempest. I try to break apart what’s been holding you…but I can’t, Louis, I’m so sorry I can’t.”

“Don’t apologise to me, Haz. I don’t expect you to,” Louis breathes so softly it _hurts._ Even hurting…this Omega is soft, when he should be defensive, irrational…he _isn’t._ The difference between them makes him _ache._ “You don’t have to know my pain to understand me. You don’t have to make a beauty of us, Harry. We’re a mess. And that’s okay. I don’t want anything _more…_ That we struggle means we’re _trying._ You can’t break apart what holds me because that’s _my_ job.”

“I want to care for you emotionally,” he says thickly, these wretched fuckin’ tears spreading in his eyes. “I want to heal you.”

Sitting up before him, the Omega’s hands land on his shoulders, then slide up either side of his throat to his cheeks, wrecking shivers up his spine. “Oh, Hazza, you’ve been caring for me emotionally since the beginning! Don’t you see that?” Those wide unfocused eyes stay over his shoulder before they shut and he leans in close, “You’ve already…I feel so whole. You make me feel like…You take care of me in e-every way possible. But I need to take care of me, too, baby.”

The animal snarls with flaring instinct. “No,” he denies through the timbre, shaking his head. “No, that is my job, Louis. I have to…I _need_ to take care of you. I just…I love you. Louis, don’t–,” soft lips silence him. A sharp breath forces its way through his lungs as the Omega kisses him with that petal coquettish mouth. Without permission his arms wound around Louis’s slim waist to carry him into his lap. Dainty hands rake through his hair. “Hazza,” a warm lovely breath that he tastes in his mouth, sunlight washing down his throat, touching places he hadn’t even known existed. In the same instant lilting laughter touches his lips, infectious in its frantic chimes. And then they’re sitting there, exchanging laughter, sharing breath. The hands in his hair run through the waves comfortingly until the sounds fade and the Alpha adds pressure to the kiss, the buzz tightening deliciously over his skin as Louis’s breathing hitches. “I don’t know how to believe the words with all of me, Haz.”

“Me either,” he admits almost helplessly.

“We’re so…” Against his words, the Alpha growls softly, tonguing at his bottom lip, sucking the flesh between his canines. “Mmm,” the boy makes this beautiful little noise, and Harry’s hands force themselves underneath his top, tracing the slight ridges of his ribs. “Yeah,” he says roughly, releasing his bottom lip with sexual little _pop._ “We’re so _meant._ ”

So responsive, the boy’s mouth parts in welcome, “You th-think so?”

“Know so.”

Tearing a sound from his throat, Louis shakes his head wildly and fumbles with the silver coverlet where it’s tucked tight underneath an unnecessary amount of pillows. Underneath his gaze the boy moves jerkily, squirming underneath, then settling, concealed in a little ball. His emotional turmoil causes Harry’s skin to crawl as he asks, “what are you doin’, Louis?”

Snivels are his only response.

Swallowing thickly, the Alpha tries to tug the blankets away but the Omega grapples against him, “Stop it!” it’s almost a shout. “Leave me alone.”

“No. I never want to leave you alone,” Harry says fiercely, letting up only on the blankets. “I never will.” Instead he makes it to the opposite side, lifting there and shimmying underneath before forcing his way to Louis’s side. In the tight space, the Omega’s face is pressed into the new layer of spread; eyes squeezed shut though little tears trickle past the corners of his eyes. “I’m _never_ leaving you. You’re the only boy I want. I’d never make it without you, not here, not in the Council, not in _life._ Why don’t you tell _me_ you’ll never _leave me?_ ” _Because right now I need to hear it._

“N-No. God, you’re so dramatic.”

“’M not…Maybe I’m holding on too tight. Maybe I’m obsessive. Maybe I love you _too_ much. But I don’t really care. Give me the words, Louis. Tell me.”

“I _can’t._ I can’t be so selfish, Haz. I can’t.”

“You won’t be being selfish,” he says, trying to smile. “I want to be here. I want to have _all the time_ to be here. Tell me.”

“J-J-Just stop, Haz.”

“However you let me love you is how I will love you, kitten. Let me love you _right._ ”

“Will it be enough?”

“You have to tell me,” he whispers shakily. “Any way I can love is you is enough for me. But…that’s why I’m so scared, kitten. I’m _scared_ because I have never been…what I need to be. So what if I can’t be what I need to be for you?”

Louis shakes his head, then tries to hide his face though Harry breathes, “Stop it. Stop hiding. I don’t…” his voice is coming apart, becoming a desperate shout as the panic cords in his lungs. “Don’t leave _me_ in the dark, too, Louis.”

Those words seem to touch him as Louis turns his face to him away. Wide, puffy ocean-like eyes are so open to him; reflecting the wild distress in his own stare, but the affection in Louis’s. “One of us has to stay in the light,” the boy’s voice is a mere breath. “Can’t let this be the end of our story, yeah?”

 _Fuck no, we can’t be buried in dust, dust can’t be what’s left of us._ “No…” When Louis releases a small unsteady breath, Harry continues cumbrously, “We’re going…through some serious changes right now. Having ups and downs, peaks and valleys, and _fuck…fuck_ someone above is laughing at us right now. Someone is havin’ the best damn time whipping our hearts about and watching us move bloody mental mountains.”

“Maybe we should laugh with them?” the boy suggests with a timid smile. Right now with Louis giving him this doe-eyed look, so _taken,_ Harry feels bullet-proof, a rush he’s still unaccustomed to.

“That does sound like the best alternative.”

“They why aren’t you laughing?” Louis asks, voice more whisper-soft than he’s heard before.

Swallowing thickly, Harry shrugs one-shouldered. “My laugh-box appears to be broken.”

Just like that the Omega’s humor banks somewhat, but he continues on his light note, as if he doesn’t realise Harry can read every slight shift, every nuance of his expressions. “Someone needs to beat you bloody with a banana.”

It’s so random that Harry blanks for the second though Louis continues nonchalantly, “You like bananas, don’t ya? I wonder, can you use a banana to…uh…you know?” Wiggling close, Harry buries his face in the slope of Louis’s throat, unable to negate the grin that forms at his mouth. “Dual purpose.”

“You’re joking?” the boy exclaims, all shrilly like.

A bout of snickers comes from his chest as he rolls them, lowering his weight again to listen to Louis’s sharp breath. “Harry! This isn’t even _funny right now!_ I’m completely one hundred percent serious!”

“One hundred? Impossible. Nobody is _that_ serious. How about ninety five percent?” he brokers around more laughter.

“Oh, come off it. I am absolutely sure.”

“Sure sure? Like _positively sure?_ ” he asks, planting kisses up the column of his slender throat, humming in approval when he tilts his head a bit.

“Quit teasin’ me!” the boy scolds. “That’s not allowed.”

In light reproof his hand slides down his right side to his thigh, squeezing his thick flesh. When he attempts to spread his leg, the Omega tenses, keeping his thighs strictly closed. “No?” he asks huskily, lifting his face from his jaw.

Beneath him the boy’s eyes are shut, cheeks flushed, mouth parted, so so beautiful in his arousal. “Nope,” Louis mumbles lightly. “These legs don’t open for just any Alpha.”

A low baleful growl starts in his throat as his hand tightens. “No. They don’t. Only this Alpha.” When the boy only giggles, another growl rips up his throat. “I’m not screwin’ around, little one.”

Underneath him, Louis fidgets, then breathes, “Neither am I. Hence why my legs are clooooosed.”

“I could turn you over in three seconds,” he says silkily, mouth brushing the curve of his ear, nipping as the boy _“mmm”s_ low in his throat, “Drag these sexy little tights down your sexy thighs. Panties too. You wearing panties for me, kitten?”

Breathing come as shallow as Harry’s, Louis mumbles, “Not…for you.”

“Mmm,” he hums low in his throat, tongue trailing down his throat. “Pretty in your little panties. ‘S a shame I’ll have to remove them. Wanna taste how wet you’re getting for me.”

“Said…no.”

“Let me persuade you,” he presses in a husky breath, stroking his thigh up to the sharp jut of his hipbone, thumbing at the smooth skin.

Another breathy sound before, “’S goin’ to take more than a little touch to convince me.” _Little touch makes you wet though, doesn’t it, baby?_

“No?” he asks, closing his mouth where his collarbones almost touch, marveling at the smooth delicate feel against his tongue. Heat shimmers between them and his canines scrape, the boy whimpering in response. “How about now?” he asks roughly, taking his hand lower again where he wants it, attempting to tug at his leg.

A small hand stops his languid travel. “Still no,” Louis says, chiming with amusement.

Clenching his teeth, biting back his frustration, the Alpha asks tightly, “Why not?”

Lifting his face, Harry’s hair falls in his eyes though he disregards it to watch the boy squirm, then push at his chest. Unwillingly, Harry falls back on his heels as the boy sighs, then murmurs, “Don’t wanna. Don’t feel like it.”

“That’s a lie,” the Alpha mutters, rubbing roughly at his eyes.

“You’re so arrogant. Do you realise how you sound right now?” When Harry rolls his eyes the boy huffs, then crosses his arms petulantly. Inhaling through his nose, Harry catches the addictive scent, wanting to shove his hips in lame attempt to find the sweetest place, permeating his senses. “I can smell you. Don’t tell me you don’t want to.”

“I. Don’t. Want. To.” A storm flares in those eyes, so much so that his breath catches. “You’re damn gorgeous when you tell me no. It’s frustrating.”

The little puckered _v_ forms between his brows before– _confusion, hope._ “Y-You…” he hesitates, then sits up, wringing his hands in his lap. “You won’t…make me?”

Tension catches his shoulders as he straightens, murmuring frigidly, “I am _not_ that Alpha, Louis.”

Fragile shoulders shrug as Louis keeps his face strictly lowered. “I-I’ve always…I’m…I just I’m a terrible person alright? I need t-t-to make sure.”

“Are you saying…You were _testing me?_ ” he asks through clenched teeth. “What about _trust,_ Louis?”

“I’m trying!” Louis cries, distress marking his shrilly tone though it dies down into a defeated breath. “I just…I’m trying. I’m trying to travel by fate…but I…I was loved by an Alpha. And all I could feel was fear.”

The words wrench at the beating thing in his chest before he snarls fiercely, “You _are_ loved by an Alpha _now,_ damn it. You are also the most exasperating Omega. You have no sense of when to actually _trust me._ ”

“I do…Just…I’m trying to make sense of things in my Louis-way. W-We might not be compatible.”

“Damn it, Louis, I–,”

“I mean faction-wise. I-I-I can’t be that Omega who’s going to submit every time you want it.” Now the boy smiles, actually almost _laughs_ at him with his sweet mouth and gentle, all-too-knowing eyes. “I always want to make you happy,” he confesses quietly. “B-B-But if I can only do that sexually then there is no point to us.”

“I am going to throttle you,” he promises tiredly. “As for making me happy…I could go years without. Hell no I don’t _want_ to wait that long but I would if you didn’t want it, if you weren’t ready. Whatever the reason I would _wait,_ I wouldn’t _care._ Sexual gratification doesn’t make me as happy as listening to your giggles, watching you dance, feeling you burrow into my side. Never could.”

“What if I said I never wanted you sexually again?” the boy demands suspiciously.

Grimacing, Harry swallows that pill with difficulty but says honestly, “Then I’ll die of blue balls. Not the worst way to go. Certainly top ten.”

“Oh, no…” his laughter is a quiet whisper, weak. Harry’s vitals tighten with an emotion he rarely allows himself to feel with such an intensity: fear. “What have I done to you, Hazza? A proper shame for an Alpha of your standing to never use your sex-tool or have little curly haired pups toddling about. I think the apocalypse _has_ started.”

“Sure does feel like the world’s falling apart in chasms.” Somehow the boys doesn’t sound the same, even as Harry wishes Louis were larger, so he could bury himself in his arms, in him, and escape the feelings all his words unexpectedly bring to life in his aching chest.

“Stitch ‘em up.”

An incredulous chuck breaks away from his mouth. “I couldn’t stitch myself together let alone my entire world.” _You think too much of me…_ At the pathetic words Harry looks away, ashamed of his weakness, his words making him close his eyes and fight the tears he can’t fucking afford. _Alpha’s don’t cry damn it._ “You’re–,” Louis is interrupted by two taps on the door; “Knock knock!” comes a familiar voice.

Releasing an unsteady breath, holding Louis’s blind wet eyes, Harry clears his throat to call hoarsely, “What do you want, Payne?”

“The _to-be_ is demanding his boy’s night out! So getcha bums up and let’s hit the road!”

Before him Louis scrambles into his lap, miniature legs rounding his waist, slim arms winding around his shoulders, a delicate hand toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Let’s agree to disagree for now. And we can finish this discussion another time.” _How about never?_

Relieved to have an out, the Alpha buries his nose in Louis’s feathery hair, inhaling the comforting fragrance, deciding minutely that it’s becoming rosier with time. All the while the tension drains from his body when the small boy runs his mouth along his jaw. The contact resonates through his entire body as his heart runs bloody marathons. “I’m starting to believe. In you. In us. LouisandHarry.”

And _damn it_ the Alpha hadn’t realised how much he needed something to call his own. A sanctuary, a place that seems solely for his heart and soul to find some semblance of rest. In Louis he’s finding all these things, and while the Omega meets all the needs, the Alpha has more than an equal desire to know _all_ of him, to be that place for him as well. To be a home for _each other._

Sure, he shouldn’t pursue insane thoughts, and but what the hell is love exactly? In his twisted mind it’s exactly as it’s always been. Impervious unless insane.

∞

            Impatient as Niall is it’s no feat that the Irish boy doesn’t wait on them; taking each of their arms, Ireland forces him outside. Ten minutes are spent bickering over who is driving; of course after their last incident Harry wins, starting the car with a shit-eating grin. Through the drive Liam quietly marvels because _“my God, Ni, you’re going to be a mated man tomorrow night,”_ and _“this is all so sudden,”_ until mirroring Harry’s desire, the Irish boy cuffs him on the back of the head. Yelping, Liam flinches from the assault in the passenger until Harry is snarling, “God damn it, Liam! I can’t see around your big head!”

Meanwhile Louis faces the window, a little smile playing on the corner of his mouth. Insistent, Niall pokes the boy in the side until Louis starts in with his sharp tongue, slashing Niall like nobody else can. Once they’ve parked Niall scrambles out of the vehicle first, clutching his chest and moaning dramatically, “ _My heart! I cannot go on…!”_

More excited than should be allowed, his Omega follows, though once on the ground, losses his footing on the slush–in that second Harry’s heart is needled with ice though Niall (bless his fucking soul) catches Louis around the waist. “You little twat! Don’t fuckin’ do that! Be more careful!” And the flash of horror leaves Niall’s stare when Louis huffs, hugging his arms to his belly, “Sheesh! It was an accident!” But the appreciative look that overcomes his features has Harry wondering how many times Niall’s saved the Omega from falls that would have marred his delicate, vulnerable pride.

“The weather is so inconsiderate,” Liam murmurs smoothly, shutting both the passenger side and the backseat so the tinted windows block his sight. Releasing an insignificant breath, Harry leaves the car to trudge through the snow, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets to let Niall have his way with Louis. Liam takes on his pace while the two Omegas carry on through the snow some feet ahead, chatting animatedly about where Niall thinks Josh will take him on their post-mating getaway. Uninterested, the Alpha’s attention strays until Liam murmurs, “I reckon he’ll take him back home.”

At this Harry hums, then responds impassively, “’M sure he’d like that.”

Beside him Liam laughs quietly, and then explains sheepishly at Harry’s questioning look, “It’s funny. Nothing holds your attention anymore. Well…except him.”

With a start the Alpha finds the other is…right. Even now with those damned gooey chocolate eyes staring at him with that _knowing_ light that makes his skin crawl, his eyes are noting the way the nighttime breeze toys with Louis’s hair, how his stride is more confident with Niall’s arm tossed around his shoulders, how his footprint in the slowing snow are so much smaller in comparison to Harry’s. “I did that once or twice in my day,” Liam continues. “Measured his exact movements.”

In response, Harry narrows his eyes, annoyed. Calculating, his Alpha bares his canines and dares the other to look again.

“You can’t blame me,” the other defends around a wince.

“Shut up, Payne,” the Alpha warns, curling his hands into fists. “Or I will shut you up.”

“Alright, I know I shouldn’t have brought that up, but I’m trying to like…brotherly bond or whatever. Find shit alike between us.” Risking a look at Liam, he notes the sincerity in his stare, the apologetic turn of his mouth.

With a heavy sigh, Harry gives a bit (just barely) but mutters tightly nonetheless, “Is all that we have in common is we fancied the same Omega once upon a time?”

“Well no…We’re both Alphas,” Liam hedges, so optimistic that Harry chuckles, nodding. “Good point. We’re practically the same person.”

“Not quite. ‘M better looking.”

For the very first time in a while someone other than Louis causes him to laugh; true loud pleased cackling that causes him to slam a hand over his mouth to stifle the unexpected sound. Looking at him like Harry’s his entire world, Liam beams, and _what the fuck? Is making me laugh so difficult?_ Well, if you’re not Louis, he imagines so. Seemingly startled, Louis stumbles, then tilts his head, listening to Harry continue. Craning his head, unfocused eyes glow with encouragement, then the boy shoots him a brilliant, toothy smile before turning back Niall, nodding. As he does so, Liam shoves him a bit, “You’ve done it again, Styles.”

The amusement makes its swift exit as Harry cocks a quizzical brow. Cheerily, Liam smiles like they’ve exchanged something more than mere laughter. “Made him happy. You do so quite easily.”

Pride scrapes at his chest. “Damn right.” Again, Louis throws a look over his shoulder at him, but his bottom lip is caught between his little canines, and the provocative luminosity in those bottomless blues stuns him enough that he trips over his own bloody feet.

“Man you are _so_ bonded,” Liam chuckles. “Flustered because an Omega has bedroom eyes for you.”

“Not _any_ Omega,” the Alpha retorts once he’s recovered from his slight lapse in control over the rampant animal panting through his entire body. “That is _my_ Omega. And he’s throwing _knot-me_ eyes. I can’t help but be a bit…” he clears his throat before finishing, “uncomfortable.”

“Mate, hate to point out the _obvious,_ but the monster in your trousers says you’re more than a _bit_ uncomfortable,” Liam says around snickers, like he should be _embarrassed._

Shameless, Harry smiles sloppily, “That’s only a semi, mate.”

Seemingly appalled, Liam gapes, then weakly, “I’m a bit traumatized, H, I did _not_ need to know that.”

“Teach you to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, Li,” Harry murmurs easily, tugging at his bun so it’s looser. At the entrance to the pub, the Irish boy with his crown flashes something in his coat pocket (what the hell?) and they’re welcomed with a cheery, warm look from a bloke who’s mouth might crack it’s been so straight for so long. “Enjoy,” the bouncer says with genuine meaning, though the _while you can_ is left unsaid.

Christ, society damn well knows how to make a monster of _their_ mating rituals, he thinks, irritated. Every bachelor Alphas absolute nightmare, every spirited Omegas absolute night terror, and every Betas last concern. Really, the freak out is more than petrifying–but it’s not exactly irrational either. Even he’s witnessed what mating does to a couple, watched the love crumble under the weight of proximity, watched hatred sprout and overcome loves flower with weeds not even a bond could withstand.

But he damn well has become a dreamer, he wants to be a better Alpha, and _fuck_ it won’t be near perfect but he’ll do _everything_ in his power by learning from his parents’ mistakes. Because unlike his father he’s not _ever_ going to have second thoughts, at one point he might’ve…but shit happens, and this bond is _infallible._

Lost to these thoughts Harry follows the Omegas instinctively through the dark neon-lit club. Nothing pierces the film shadowing reality; though he’s aware of the scantily dressed dancers, then thick odor of sexual arousal and alcohol, the various voices and futile conversations, there is nothing worth absorbing.

Without warning a petite, soft body aligns with his. As slim arms snake around his throat, the Alpha is torn from that obscure place in his mind to center on the Omega stretching on his tiptoes to breathe, “Stop thinkin’ so much.”

On its own accord his hand cups his face, stroking the curve of his cheekbone with his thumb. “There are lots to think about,” his voice comes as a whisper. Louis shivers, leaning into his touch. “I love the way you look at me.”

Forever unable to understand this beautiful, complex creature, his brows furrow. “How could you possibly know how I look at you?”

A little secretive smile, lashes casting shadows from closed eyes, is his answer. Not nearly answer enough.  But he can’t press because it’s Niall night, and when the Omega demands Louis’s attention, he reluctantly releases the boy again. From there the night rushes in a flurry of colourful beverages, thrilled conversation, and comforting snickers. Surprisingly, Niall babysits his drinks, and when Liam asks, the Irish boy simply says, “I don’t want to be crabby on my big night.” Which is answer enough as the Alpha’s don’t press, more relieved than anything else. A while continues like this until Niall decides Louis must dance with him. Happily, his boy agrees, and while Liam opts to dance with them, Harry stays right where he is, deciding to let the three have some reflecting time.

Preoccupied with his thoughts and the drink that somehow continues to end up in his hand, the Alpha let’s his head fall back and releases an unsteady breath. Only now is he realizing how overwhelming the week has been. But _fuck_ the liquid sloshing about in his brain isn’t helping by any means, tangling the thoughts until their incomprehensible.

When the three return something has changed–noticeably. One: Louis is _blissfully inebriated._ Two: Liam looks like he’s committed an unforgiveable crime. Three: Niall looks _sad._

Only Louis really _talks,_ rambling endearingly like he does when he’s had one too many. Rather quickly the Alpha decides its _way too fucking late,_ and ushers the three, with a whiney Louis poking at him, into the car again. Once they’ve returned, Liam swiftly disappears with a _“night, buds,”_ and Niall mumbles quietly, “I’ll be in my room. Louis is bunking with me tonight. So you can let him change, but then I want him back. Got it?”

The tone is too damned _quiet,_ but when he reaches out to the Irish boy, Louis yanks at his arm, giving him a look that says _not right now_. Understanding, Harry nods, wishing the heartrending Omega sweet dreams. Upstairs, Louis carries his shoes, and somehow Harry’s shades have come to rest on the bridge of his nose, veiling his eyes as he dances to their room, steering _him_. More in love than he could ever voice, the Alpha reels the stumbling boy in when he continues to walk _away_ from their door. 

Between them, the current soars as Louis gasps, then emits a breathless giggle.

And the boy crashes into him like waves on the coast. Just like that they fall against the door, fall into a warm kiss; his lips taste like _sex on the beach,_ and his skin is the finest silk.

“Clothes!” Louis reminds wisely. “Not tonight. I need to be there for Ni. Please, understand, Haz.”

Resting his forehead on the boy’s delicate shoulder, Harry nods, but holds the blessed contact a minute more before hurrying to find him a change of clothes. While the Omega fumbles into his fresh clothes, the Alpha doesn’t dare look, can’t trust himself to, though he can’t stop his damned eyes when Louis whines, “Hazza, help! I’m stuck!” And he certainly _is,_ the jumper is the wrong way, and his arm is bent in the wrong gap, an awkward position that takes whatever breath he’d retained away. Gently, Harry helps him, then walks him leisurely to Niall’s door. There, Harry breathes, “I haven’t slept without you in a while. I’m goin’ to be up all night.”

Shaking one finger at him, Louis smiles, then yawns adorably, “No, you’re _not._ Be a responsible young adult and rest.”

“I’ll try, kitten.” _Yeah, I’m not getting any sleep tonight._

Giving him another sleepy smile, the boy stretches up to leave kisses along his jawline up to his cheek then lower over his mouth. It’s the sweetest farewell, but when Louis disappears into the room, it’s not so sweet anymore.

Even the most temporary farewell’s hurt like hell apparently.

 

∞

           

Louis surfaces slowly, unconsciously thrashing as the swarming sensation comes over his entire frame, like he’s swimming through sand. Weighed down but curiously weightless all the same. Hazy. The ugly stifling becomes a jagged ache in his throat as he gasps awake. Jolting upright his head spins uncontrollably as he smacks a hand to his forehead, croaking, “Crap,” as he recalls the night before.

The entire bottle of God knows what. Crying. Laughing. Heat creeps high on his cheeks until he must be scarlet. For no apparent reason; it’s not like he’d slurred all his fantasies or dreams to just _anyone._ Still, Louis finds himself praying desperately that Niall doesn’t remember. Wishful thinking, of course, but a boy can hope.

Though hope _has_ taken him to unimaginable places…it’s also clawed its way to his soul and stained it with blood and sightless destruction. Wishing only wounds the heart. Before the sousing thoughts overcome him, reality steals his useful senses. The respite lasts only seconds–faint snivels and uneven breaths mark the crying of the Irish boy, curled up on the otherside of the mattress.

Concerned, Louis whispers groggily, “Ni?” When there is no response besides a horrifyingly dry sob, Louis scrambles across the unnecessarily opulent mattress, hands anxiously seeking his best mate. They land on wet, heated features as Niall chuckles hoarsely, “L-Lou, that’s my face!” Taking one hand back, the other runs up, smoothing ruffled, disheveled hair as Louis breathes, confusion furrowing his brows, “Why are you cryin’, Ni? You’re not supposed to be crying today unless it’s _happy_ tears!”

“I-I-I…” the Irish boy tries, but the words become lost with dry, heaving sobs. Reacting to Niall’s distress, Louis yanks the other Omega up, and carries him into an embrace, rocking him as he cries into his throat. Sadness that should not exist today eats away at him as he strokes the Irish lad’s shoulders. “Shh,” Louis tries to comfort, but when Niall begins to quaver, helplessness weighs on his shoulders. “Niall, please, calm down.”

“I-I-I _can’t,_ ” Niall cries like never before. The blood drains from his face–Niall, cheery, spirited Niall. When someone like Niall succumbs to this wrecked state it’s heart-wrenching, icy like hale, pelting at him.  

Soundless, Louis does what his Omega’s taught him to do under stress, cocoons them in the heaps of blankets, curls their bodies close, and closes his eyes. “I-I-I’m just so _scared,_ ” the Irish boy hiccups into his chest. “’Ve o-o-only been this sca-scared when w-w-w-e p-p-played h-h-hide-‘n-go-seek and you fell down the s-s-stairs,” even now he manages to laugh around choking snivels. “’Member?”

“Yes, I remember,” the Omega assures fondly. “You cried more than _me!_ And you begged me not to die.”

“Y-Y-Yeah. I p-p-promised to never let you get hurt again if I c-c-could help it.”

Emotion crowds his throat, and Louis has to swallow multiple times before he’s able to find his voice again. “Y-Y-Yeah. And you didn’t. You didn’t leave my side at school. Even when you so desperately wanted to play with the big boys. I always h-h-hated holding you back. But you were so _stubborn._ Even p-p-pummeled poor Matt for calling me a–,”

 _“Don’t,_ ” Niall interrupts sharply. “I’ll have to pummel _you_ if you repeat those stupid words.”

“Blind,” Louis starts mischievously, though he’s once again cut short when Niall pinches his side. “Remember what happened to Matt, Louis. Don’t say it.” The fierce protectiveness in his voice causes Louis’s heart to expand so much so that it’s pressed against his ribs.

“Blind disabled bitch!” the Omega explodes anyway, trying to escape Niall’s enraged squeal. It’s useless; the Irish boy pins him on his back, then takes his chin in two forceful fingers. “Louis Tomlinson. That is _not_ funny!”

“Everyone else thought so.” The abrupt memory of being shoved into the mud pile they’d made just for him, wet dirt shoving up his nose and in his mouth as the others jeered and spat at him makes him nauseous as hot stupid tears gather in his stupid eyes.        

“That’s why I tore those fuckers apart. That was the _last_ time I let others do _my_ thinking. When I saw _my_ bestest mate…” his voice breaks, and then he brushes at the stray tear that’s oozed. “That was _never_ funny, Lou. People are cruel. And I learnt rather quickly that in order to stay _happy_ you have to be _worse_ sometimes _._ I will _never_ see you treated like that again. And maybe I ‘ave Harry to thank for some of that. Maybe Li. Maybe even _I’m_ to thank. But most of all _you are to thank for that._ Because you are _strong,_ and you have been through hell and come back and even though you’re a fuckin’ mess, yer damned _worth every second._ And I never _ever_ want to see you take the cruel words of others silently again. Promise me? As my mating wish?”

The bite of the Irish boy’s nails is hardly felt around the infinite gratitude, the endless loyalty and love Louis shares with him. In a rush of sentiment, Louis sits up and crushes Niall to him, whispering, “Just when I think I can’t love you enough you come out with this kinda lovey-doveyness. I will try my best, okay? Only for you.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed,” Niall starts in, “how you’ve been prancing and perking your arse out for Harry. How close are you? And don’t act like I’m not an Omega and don’t know that you can very well key into your Omega and _know._ ”

Leave it to Niall to stay true to his lewd temperament. Groaning in horror, Louis shoves him away, and plops backwards onto the mattress, tossing an arm over his eyes. Like he _really_ knows how to do any of that Omega-intuition-stuff everyone talks about. He can’t even manage to properly communicate with his Omega. “Am I so obvious?”

Cuddling up close, the Irish lad giggles almost shyly, “Yes, Lou. You have _intense_ bedroom eyes for your Alpha. And those eyes end up directed at the wrong person and you have other Alphas panting and humping the bloody air, too.”

Horrified, Louis’s mouth forms some cringe worthy noise, then, “Oh my God! Nooo! Haz is so _jealous!_ He’s…insane, Ni! I don’t even want to know what–!” 

“Actually, Harry is too busy drooling over you to notice. He’s arrogant, and he damn well knows those looks are for him exclusively.”

Relieved, the Omega releases a breath, “Y-You think he likes it?”

“Weeeell,” the Irish boy stretches the word ponderously, causing Louis’s heart to start to sink until, “I’d say when he’s not struggling to keep his cock in his trousers, yeah, he likes it.”

Assured, his Omega purrs, though Louis’s confusion prods him to ask, “What does that mean?”

“You’re teasing him, Louis! You’re a tease! And his Alpha is up to the challenge! But that challenge is what _he isn’t_ up too. He’s scrambling to stay in control. And he _hates_ that you get him to that point as much as he loves it.”

“Such a confusing world we live in,” Louis complains, then, to distract his straying thoughts, “Today isn’t about me and my dysfunctional relationship. This is about _you!_ Why were you crying? And don’t try to act like it didn’t happen either, Niall James Horan.”

With an exhausted, heavy sigh, the Irish lad collapses beside him, their hands becoming tangled. “’M jus’ insanely scared, Lou…” the vulnerable note to his voice stuns Louis so that Niall is able to ramble on, “You know that feeling when you’re about to get on a rollercoaster? And you’re so excited, but at the same time you’re brimming with terror? It’s like that. I know I’m about to do something _risky,_ I know once I’m on the rollercoaster it’s going to be _wild,_ but so so worth it. But it’s like…intensely _scary_ , ya know?”

Yes, Louis wants to say, I do, but really, _no he doesn’t,_ because he isn’t meant to be mated in thirteen or so hours, he won’t be watching his Alpha claim him, not tonight, not _ever._ “No, Ni, I don’t,” _I wish I did,_ “’M sorry.”

“It’s pretty fuckin’ scary,” the Irish boy laughs, the sound laced with anxiety. “I dunno why. ‘S not like I’ve been waiting on this five years or anything.” At that Louis _has to_ snicker, though it’s short-lived as Niall continues softly, “I love him. ‘M having cold feet is all. Niall Horan, tied down, can you believe it?”

Louis smiles, squeezing his hand before responding, “Someone needs to keep you safe too, Ni.”

“I can–,”

“Shut up. I know you can take care of yourself. But don’t act like it’s not nice to have someone love you unconditionally, even when they wanna sow your mouth shut sometimes, and protect you with their life.”

A little dreamy sigh comes over the room, a little dreamy sigh Louis mirrors. “It is nice,” Niall admits, squeezing his hand back. “I don’t doubt him. Haven’t in five years.”

“Then getcha bum up because your mum is probably a frazzled mess because you’ve yet to start provision!” Omega _provision_ is the ritualistic means to cleanse an Omega into their joining; oils, bath salts, six hours of soaking in herbs.

“Ugh!” Niall moans, so dismayed that Louis can’t help but sympathize with him, “Can’t I skip that bullshit?!”

Louis shakes his head fondly. “Ah c’mon you’ve already went through the blessings. Just have to remember why you’re doing this.”

“I dunno why they want me to be a bloody prune!”

In attempts to stifle his amusement, the Omega encourages him to rise and begin his day, snidely remarking when Niall complains that Louis doesn’t have to be scrubbed and sit in a tub for hours. Though he doesn’t mean to be so irritable…it’s like weeds the flourishing colour of _green_ are wilting his excitement for his best mate. Sickened with himself, Louis throws his all into supporting Niall and promising to be there during his bath (Niall is shameless, and it’s not like there’s anything to _see)_ then shooing him into his Maura’s arms.

Once he’s alone…the weeds constrict around his lungs. _So stupid. Like this could possibly happen to me._ The insecurities seize their opportunity; the mental rift is mercilessly ruined, each word slices and tears and shreds.

_Not good enough._

As the word imbues his mind, Louis clutches his temples, holds his breath and…fights it. For the first time…Louis tries to _help himself. If_ all is left in ruins…at least he can tell Harry he _tried._

∞

            “You’re running late,” the Alpha murmurs, leaning lazily in the doorframe, watching as the Omega wrestles with his brace. Some curious emotion swarms in his chest; an emotion that makes his hands burn to touch, unused to such holy privileges as being allowed to watch Louis in the mirror.

“Harry Styles!” the weight his voice holds turns the finish into a reedy admonish, “Quit harassing me!”

“’M simply watching.” _And that you don’t care makes this moment mine._

“You’re a peeping bloody tom.” But his voice tells Harry he doesn’t mind; he’s right, of course, as seconds following Louis turns to him with a sheepish look, “Help?”

Smirking, Harry dares to step inside, and it’s no surprise that in three easy steps he’s kneeling before him, working his brace until it’s secure on the skintight material of his black trousers. Standing again, the Alpha is surprised when Louis presses something into his hand, peering down to find a thin tube of pale pink lip-gloss. Eyes widening, Harry clears his throat, waiting on an explanation, though he looks back up at the Omega when he receives none. “Explain.”

Submissive as can be, Louis bats those damned lashes, then prompts, “It goes on your lips.”

“I’d have never reckoned,” Harry mutters, tapping his mouth. “Why?”

Now the boy chooses to squirm and _fuck_ is it nice to watch him become so affected by the simple question. “You know why,” Louis mumbles, circling his wrist with a delicate hand.  “You have to bring something new to the ceremony…And yeah. What’s new with you?”

“This is what you choose?” the Alpha asks incredulously, blinking down at this confusing creature. “Well, hold still then.” Careful as possible, Harry removes the brush, then drags the sticky sparkly liquid across his bottom lip, tracing the bow of his top as the finish. “Done.” As he’s shoving the tube into his pocket, Louis asks again, “What did you bring, Harry?”

Snaking his free arm around his waist, Harry draws him in, pleased when he exposes his face so those bottomless blues as he breathes, “You. You’re everything new to me.” Grey suspicion flares in Louis’s eyes, before the boy asks, “How long you been planning to use that line, lover boy?”

With a smirk, the Alpha’s stare lowers to the alluring lips, glossy with sparkles he wants on his tongue, “Since last night.” And he watches his eyes as they flutter shut, watches his mouth part beautifully, and his body sway towards him. “Are you charmed?” Harry asks huskily, hands kneading at his thighs. “N-Not quite,” the boy sighs, his rosy scent thickening with his desire. “What does an Alpha have to do to win a boy like you?”

“You’re so cheesy,” Louis mumbles, and when he speaks the sparkle at his lips catch in the light.

“Do you love me, Louis?” his voice is a drawl as his hands brush the curves of his perky ass, thumbs bearing down on the indentations just above the swells.

“Yes,” a small breathless response that makes his cock fat in his trousers, the blunt head outlined at his thigh with how he’s situated the bloody thing.

“Tell me.”

“It’s time!” Someone singsongs, bustling into the bathroom. Tensing, the Alpha risks a look over his shoulder to find Jay in the doorway, fumbling with a white clutch. In a fluid motion, Harry turns to the sink, inwardly cringing at how damned _ravenous_ he looks–his pupils are blown, canines threatening to pierce his bottom lip, styled curls beginning to wilt with his blazing body heat. At the exact time Harry looks over, Jay lifts her head, then, “Oh. Well. This…is awkward.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mother,” Louis mutters, shaking his head as if to clear it–Harry should honestly take note as Louis looks unruffled in seconds, walking up to his mum with a flawless smile. “Time to enjoy the show!”

Easily, Jay loops their arms and starts away with her son, though she pauses in the doorway, peering back at him. “Well come along, Harry.”

“You guys go on. I’ll join in a moment.”

“No, no, I insist we all walk together. Now, Harry.” Knowing when to yield to Jays motherly tone, Harry sighs, straightens, and stares straight ahead, praying to whatever God out there that Louis’s mum does _not_ notice the heavy erection he’s sporting. Of course, cackling up there, the Gods don’t give any fucks, and Jay yelps, “Good Lord!” before covering _Louis’s_ eyes.

“What?! What?!” Louis asks frantically and _dear God_ Harry’s face is on _fire;_ it appears in the presence of his elders he _does_ have (some) shame as his hands cover what’s already been seen. In this moment the awkward settles in the room as Harry attempts to alleviate the damned gnawing sensation in his stomach, avoiding the shocked eyes of Jay and Louis’s confused questioning. At least the hard on is rapidly losing interest.

Clearing her throat, Jay takes her hand back, patting Louis’s shoulder comfortingly. “Nothing, baby. Just…uh…” she glances at her imaginary watch, “look at the time! We’re running late! C’mon, the both of you! Louis and I need to occupy our seats. Lottie’s waiting!” As she all but drags Louis away, the boy tosses a quizzical look over his shoulder, mouthing _what?_ turning back only when Harry sides him and whispers into his ear, “Later.”

Quickly they move through the Gothic manor, the silence overcome by their footsteps. Every sharply angled archway is accented with silken reds, the colour of bloodshed to bring passion and love to the union. This has never quite made sense to him, but tradition is tradition, and one mustn’t question ( _yeah right)_ what they are told.

A pathway of lanterns takes them to the ostentatious medieval doorways from the night before, now opened wide in welcoming. Inside the room is dimly lit from dreary chandeliers spreading more shadows than light across the monstrous cathedral. Unlike traditional layouts, the room’s stage is in the center, surrounded by myriads of cobweb designed tables and pillars that led up to the second story looking out on it. The cloths are an amusing shade of neon green.

The crimson carpet they travel on ends at the front of the structured stage then continues back into another chamber. Sage burns where it’s bracketed on the towering walls, the smoke drifting up to the coloured windows (open to take away the impending lung damage).

Escorting Jay and Louis to their sets, first row very center, Harry kisses Louis’s cheek chastely then ambles towards the curtains concealing the breathtaking canopy leading out into a finely decorated outdoor deck. Low flames permeate from fire-pits, nearby a broad line of fiery coals overcomes the space which Harry eyes warily, wondering who thought firewalking would be a right idea.

Before he’s able to examine the fields stretching beyond the deck Maura appears, dragging him by the arm into a room while scolding him for his tardiness. Throughout Harry puts on his most charming smile, dimples and all, commenting _“the time just got away from me,”_ and _“all the lovely scenery stopped me in my tracks,”_ until the female Omega is shaking her head with an entirely fond smile.

Shoving him into the room, Harry finds two other blokes, both of whom he’s never met in his life. The two introduce themselves; though the Alpha nods politely, the names don’t stick as he shrugs into another black, thick cloak, veiling his face with the hood.

The finality in the scene, even unseen, doesn’t go by unnoticed though the difference in traditional British ritual and foreign ceremonies snatches his attention. Rather than remaining silent the crowd beyond their quiet scene roars with what must be Josh’s arrival, and the elated emanation is more heartfelt than British tradition allows.

True to their tradition the Council representatives of Northern Ireland remain lively, certainly less Alpha-oriented despite British influence. To say he’s a bit taken aback when it’s Niall that summons _Josh_ is an understatement, but by the smirks on his neighbouring Holders’ faces they’d been anticipating his reaction. As his teeth grind, one of the other’s cocks an eyebrow as if to say _‘that’s right your Council isn’t that great,’_ until Harry narrows his eyes, just barely abstaining from baring his canines.

See this is the thing with people; they either love their Council or hate it. Either way it’s judgment day. And _fuck_ is it irritating, like they could possibly understand what it means to be drafted into a life you never claimed to want. It’s obvious these two aren’t quite so fond, which _whatever_ not like it matters to him, what does matter is their unnecessary desire to provoke him.

“I reckon this is botherin’ the shit out of you,” one of the Alpha’s comments under his breath snidely.

Outside, the representative drones on and on, words he’s heard too many times before so he figures why the fuck not.  Smirking like his stupidity isn’t seconds from striking a nerve, Harry asks, “You ‘ave somethin’ to say?”

When idiot doesn’t answer, Harry nods, and then laughs sardonically. “Nothin’ worth listening to, I reckon. As you certainly haven’t started some remarkable revolution, nor do you appear to be in the process of doing so, since you’re here talkin’ shit under your breath. Shit that’s so irrelevant it never could do anything, anyway.” By the time the Alpha finishes the other male’s humiliation and fury has created a chemical stench. The one lurches at him though Harry ducks, turning on his heel to bare his canines; in the same instant Maura comes from another of those veiled doors, “Oh no you don’t!” she snatches the one blokes robe. “Not at my baby’s ceremony! Take it outside once this is over, boys.”

Smirking, Harry crosses his arms, cocks an eyebrow, and murmurs calmly in promise, “Yes ma’am.”  The nameless Holder snarls, but doesn’t respond as he’s instructed to start down the carpet through the curtains with Harry seconds behind. As he stares at his robed figure, he imagines taking the dagger hooked to his hip and nudging his back with it, just to get a response, a _laugh._ But he abstains from doing this as well, calling on his restraint to roll his eyes at the applaud that erupts, and then climb the stairs.

On stage, the Alpha looks upon the horde, disregarding the enormity of faces, focused on finding _one._ Seated in the first row, to the right, between Jay and Lottie, Louis’s expression is serene, those eyes closed, mouth in a tiny smile.

Beside him, Lottie leans in, cups his ear, and whispers something. Just like that, the Omega opens his eyes, and his smile widens, an extremely heartening look as he lifts one thumb straight ahead, not at all in his direction. At this, Harry swallows, but nods, thinking he’s looking to make the same vows being exchanged soon.

Idiot Number One continues to coordinate the ceremony while Harry stands with Idiot Number Two, focused on Louis until someone jabs him in the side. Head whipping to that side, Harry meets wide, anxious blue eyes.

“This is nerve wrecking,” the Irish boy hisses from beneath his cloaks.

“Yes, it is,” Harry agrees in a breath, sliding closer to him. The blues are focused on where Josh is kneeling in only trousers (seems Niall wasn’t joking about the _non-nudity-policy)._

“Something could go wrong.”

“It could.”

“Christ, Harry. You’re supposed to assure me otherwise, you dolt!”

Seriously, the Alpha mutters, “Listen I know it’s not the most inviting situation, but be proud of your Alpha. He’s so proud of you, Ni. And right now I think he needs the reassurance that you’re not backing out. ‘Cause you sure look about two seconds from ditching. And he’s noticing.”

Motionless, the Irish boy all but whimpers, “What if I’m not ready?”

“Nobody is ever one hundred percent ready for these things,” Harry tells him. “But you can’t let doubt and fear stop you from taking your happiness, Niall.”

“I can’t do this.”

At those terrified words Harry swallows because now is certainly not the time to be in denial. “Niall, that’s enough. Now are you doing this or not because you have less than ten seconds to decide.”

Looking up at him Niall reveals wide eyes, darkened with steely emotion, seemingly torn. “Just don’t…you’d better not cut too deep, Styles. Otherwise I’ll shave you bald.”

“Who is really in the position to be threatening whom right now?”

“Me,” the other says in a small voice. “I’m always in the position to threaten you.”

“Joshua, what is the name of your Omega?” the idiot Holder asks boomingly.

Looking over with so much _love_ that Harry flinches, Josh murmurs almost too quietly, “Niall.” Cat calls and shouts erupt in seconds, the same moment Niall tries to walk forward, though Harry grabs his arm fast, telling him seriously, “Let him do this for you. You intervene and you’ll only humiliate him.”

Frozen, the Irish boy shakes his head frantically. “I think ‘m goin’ to faint.”

“Christ, Niall, I never–,” _thought you’d be the one to get such cold feet._

“Shut up! Just…shut up, Styles.”

Bothered, Harry takes his hand back to grip the hilt of his dagger, sliding it from its sheath as Josh is prepared. As his heart quickens it becomes a steady drum in his ears, overcoming the crowd’s chaotic buzz. A hand squeezes his bicep, and for the moment he does what he can to reassure Niall, but it’s a shit attempt as the telltale anticipation curls in his stomach right there with the anxiety. With a short “it’ll be alright. Faith, Ni. These things take faith,” the Alpha takes his place beside Idiot Number Two, holding his breath as the first Holder kneels behind Josh to lift a luminous dagger, approaching the skin of the other Alpha’s back.

As the Holder does so, nearing steadily, there’s a frantic Irish shrill, “Wait! Wait, stop.”

As the interruption tears through the entire room, the Alpha tenses around the crowd’s scadalised gasp. “Wait wait wait,” Niall continues. Shooting the Irish lad a _what-the-fuck-are-you-doing_ look, the Alpha watches him take a steadying breath, avoiding everyone’s eyes to scramble forward towards Josh who looks like his entire world is crashing around him. “Oh, shut up!” the Irish boy hisses under his breath towards the audience. Kneeling before Josh, the boy takes his face in two shaky hands, holding his terrified stare to breathe, “I don’t want to go into this scared. I know I said my vows. I know that but…those were just mandatory. And I want them to be from _me,_ not what I have to say, Joshua.”

With his jaw slack, Harry watches in confusion as the Irish boy strokes the liquid seeping from his Alpha’s eyes. “I love you. I don’t know why I was scared in the first bloody place. I reckon it was the ‘oh my Lord this is _really happening’_ shit. Just…from what I’ve seen mating never _works._ The relationship always falls apart. And I want to say…that’s not _us,_ okay? That is _not_ how we’re ending up. Because we aren’t _ever_ ending at all. I vow this to you.

When I met you I was so _young._ I’m still _young._ And so are you. But age means _nothing_ to me. I am _so_ ready for this. For _us._ But damn it I am _not_ ready to see you being hurt for _me._ At the same time I’m so bloody _in love_ and I know it’s going to happen ‘cause you Alpha’s and your _pain is nothing_ mindset. Fine. Get hurt. Because I’ll be the one taking care of you later. Now don’t you _dare_ cry. They don’t deserve to see _any tears from you,_ Josh, you silly Alpha. I’m here to stay. I vow this to you.  

“I don’t know where I am going with this. Just…don’t be scared. I’m not. I am _not_ letting my happiness go because of some nerves. You made me believe in _myself._ You hold me together. You tell me when I’m out of line. You _never_ try to control me. I know I’m annoying. I know I’m too much sometimes. I know I’m a little shit. But that you’ve _never_ loved me any less since that first night I almost coldcocked you…I love you, Joshua. I’ll love you when I’m taking my last breath. I love you _crazy._ I will _never_ doubt you. You give me the entire world with one look…I couldn’t doubt you if I wanted to. So quite looking at me like you’re about to piss yourself.”

The audience issues a reverential ( _very relieved)_ sigh that has Niall laughing unevenly. “That is all. Let the slicing commence!”

At this point Harry’s jaw must be to his boots as, prancing back to his place in the shadows; Niall pats it, murmuring flippantly, “Chin up, idiot. And don’t let your eyes fall out, you’ll need those.”

Closing his mouth, blinking, the Alpha shoots him an _I-hate-you-but-I-love-you-sometimes_ glare as the first Holder clears his throat, then jokes weakly, “Well…now how’s that for original?”

“SLICE HIM! SLICE HIM! SLICE HIM!” the crowd begins to chant animatedly. As the Alpha’s eyes find Louis once again, the boy is shaking his head with a nostalgic smile, brushing a stray tear that glistens, then cross his arms in impatient anticipation. The steely blaze in his eyes says he’s going to get Niall back for scaring everyone–most importantly _him._ Damn, Harry _adores_ when Louis has that promising look in his eyes.

With the support, watching the scene before him is bearable. As the first Holder starts in Josh bows his head, and though he’s panting, the victorious grin doesn’t leave his face, which _good on him; it’s about time he got his happy-ending._ At his back the sinister blood wells and drips in the blades wake, but what’s left is a beautifully neat _N._

“About bloody time!” someone shouts excitedly as the first returns to Harry’s side, eliciting another round of howls. Lucky Holder two has the privilege of carving the simple _I,_ the blood smearing with the sharp movement that causes Josh’s muscles to jump as he braces on his hands. Finished, the cloaked figure makes it to the end of the line once more which leaves Harry to start on the _A._ Numb, the Alpha steps forward, willing his hands to steady as his breathing does, deep inhales and short exhales.

“Proud of you, bud,” he says quietly as he genuflects, taking another breath to tighten his fingers on the gemstone hilt, reassured by the level cool surface. “You bett’ah be, Styles.” Shaking his head with a weary grin, Harry brings the blade to his unmarred skin and makes a precise tilted line, continuing on to the next side then finishing even as the blood stains his hands and the blade. Relieved to find the _A_ looks decent, able to disregard Josh’s slight tremble to make it back around to his place. The dagger is sliding in his hand, warm and sticky, making his stomach roll because what he’d just done fucks with his head. Always has–awakens the animal he leashes so tight it’s almost cruel; disgusts him, excites the animal Alpha.

Mercifully for his thin streak of sanity, the Alpha doesn’t have to make it through another letter as the last _L_ goes to Holder Number Two. From there Idiot Number One proceeds to clean the wounds with the blight blend of alcohol and salt, which Josh recoils from, but like any worthy Alpha, stays silent, panting through it as the wounds are bandaged. Without any help Josh rises (albeit unsteadily), and though his face is ashen there’s this goofily proud smile on his face, and affection like no other in his glassy eyes as they seek out Niall, mouthing _‘all good, baby’._

But it certainly _does not_ look _all good,_ and Harry almost wants to step in beside him and hold him up though that would _not_ help. Keeping things in motion the first Holder takes Niall’s hand to carry him forward so he’s just before his Alpha. “Niall, what is the name of your Alpha?”

“Like you don’t already know,” the Irish boy snaps defensively, watching Josh with a worried light in his eyes. A chorus of gasps that even Harry is a part of overcomes the room, following pleased shouts and laughter he certainly cannot manage to mirror at this point. When it’s obvious the ceremony will not continue until he gives an appropriate answer Niall huffs, “Joshua.”

“Uh…yes, bring him unto us.” Unimpressed the Irish boy gently takes Josh’s hand. His robe, Harry only notices now, is neon green flowing out behind him, rather than red. When they’ve done so the Irish boy does something else _out of script,_ untying the cloak to let it flutter to the floor, turning to Josh in snug dark trousers and a white button-up rolled up to the elbows. “There, much better,” Niall approves, earning more laughs.

“Your _love_ is pledged before the Council, before the witnesses. Your souls shall be one, connected for as long as you shall continue to live and onward.” Starting there, Niall begins to sniffle, scrubbing at his flushed cheeks, then growling at the chorus of _“Awee, Ni!”_

“ _I’m not crying!”_

Quieting the lot of them, the Holder continues smoothly, “Josh, give your Omega all his promises.” Out of context once again– _what the fuck is going on?_

Now, with the imminent bonding, the Alpha is prepared to look away, but before he can the Holder retrieves something from his robbing. A long, velvety string is produced, handed to Josh who breathes fervently, eyes never leaving Niall’s, “I love you, Ni.” As he knots the string around the Irish boys fingers Harry realises what’s happened, and something sharp and invisible stabs him in the chest when Niall binds them together.

Raising their tied hands to the crowd in claim, the two fall into each other, an embrace that’s sickeningly soft and incessantly loving. An _endless promise._

Applauds erupt, and Harry finds himself unable to move, watching the two whisper against each other, foreheads touching, knotted hands intertwined. “Later,” is what he catches before people rise from their seats and begin to clamber up onto the stage. Stunned speechless, the Alpha simply watches them ascend from all slides, closing in on them.

“Hey! Hey! Watch your grimy arses! You hurt my Alpha right now and–,” Niall is boosted into the air with a whole lot of commotion. “Get away from me! I hate you all! I want Josh, damn it!” But the crowd doesn’t appear to care and even Harry is shoved, snarling though nobody seems to care about this either, cheering and cackling and being an absolute chaotic mess.

Irritated, Harry growls under his breath before shoving through the throng down the _steps_ in search of where Jay stands to the sidelines, looking out with a fond motherly look.

Just like that, in one second, the Alpha realises Louis is nowhere to be seen. In fact, by the flash of concern on Jay’s face, the Omega has _disappeared._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I can't wait to hear thoughts:')  
> How did it go? It really helps!  
> .xxx


	26. Part 26;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee, I have so many things I feel like I should say but it’s been so so so long and I know nobody really wants to read the notes on how long it’s been (we all know haha) so um hi guys…Soon is finally here. I’m extremely nervous, but excited at the same time? I don’t know. I want to thank everyone who’s stuck around to read this chapter, and I want to thank everyone who’s been checking up on me, and I want to thank all my kind readers no matter how brief or how long. I really appreciate everything. I always will, and I will always remember everything you guys have done for this story.  
> I really, really want to say thank you to all the people in my life who have also put up with my unorganized and very erratic ways. Mostly, I’m really emotional as is right now, my bestest [harley](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarLouis) who is literally the main reason this chapter is posted right now. I have no words for how lovely she has been to me and to this story, and all the help and motivation she’s given me. If you haven’t already (you are missing out), check out her fics. –Wipes tears- THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU.  
> Always, a kind thanks [miles](http://smittenwithlouis.tumblr.com) who has stuck with me through this. –Wipes more tears-  
> Okaaaaay. I’m ready to shut up now so everyone can get to the good (I hope?) stuff.  
> All my positive vibes to you all,  
> I hope it’s worth the wait.  
> Dani xx

 

            “I was in the bathroom!” Put out, huffy, the words materialize as Harry grabs him by the arm, tucks him into his side and all but tows him away from the search party he’d forced upon the (previously) mated couples company.

“You could have told someone. Your mum, _me._ Or is that too much to ask?” the Alpha bites back ridiculously, like he hadn’t been coordinating an entire ceremony moments ago. A cold boulder settles on his chest, threatens to break the bottled up words in his heart–it’s not fair. This– _them,_ is not fair _._ Mortification swamps him in heat, creeping from his cheeks down to his throat as he struggles against the irrational words crawling up his throat. It’s  _not fair for Harry to react like this._ It’s not  _fair_ that he can’t understand what it’s like to be so incapable of the simplest tasks. Incapable of using the bathroom without  _help._ God knows Louis  _can’t_ express this–least his Alpha try to  _join him._ At the mere thought goose bumps form on his arms, and his face feels alight _._

Childishly his Omega stomps his foot down on Louis’s mental shields, throwing a tantrum that makes Louis want to duck his head and breathe an apology–but  _no._ No. Swallowing around the lump of emotion swelling in his throat Louis mumbles, “You’re being entirely unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable?” the Alpha nearly snarls, bringing them to an abrupt halt. Just like that his Omega shrinks away from the manacle-like hands confining his arms, but Louis let’s this happen, crushing the impulsive fright to raise his chin defiantly. “I’m being–?”

“Yes, Harry!” the boy interrupts, shrilly and unsteady. “I went to the bathroom! I had Lottie take me! I was there not even ten minutes! Why are you freaking out?”  _Silence_. The only sounds to be heard are the distant hums of interaction, and their muted breaths–unlike his own Harry’s even out second by slow second.

When it’s nearly inaudible, steady, his own tiny breath eases between them–like everything else there’s no room. Not when Harry Styles is present–stealing his breath, leaving imprints on his heart, imprints that refuse to ever fade; the lantern in his inescapable darkness. Exposing his sightless stare Louis waits until, “Christ,” his voice is hoarse enough; Louis’ heart feels broken at the slight break in the simple word.  _Oh, Haz..._

Unable to deny his Omega, the boy leans into him, burying his face in the Alpha’s shoulder, hands little fists tucked underneath his chin. Like this Louis can feel the strong beat of his heart beneath his hands; thinks their hearts might be racing at the same bittersweet tempo. A comforting tempo. Enough that his irritation drifts into warm realization–like he knows (and he  _must)_ the Alpha’s arms circle his waist. With one last, heavy breath Harry noses at his temple.

“Bett’ah?” Louis asks, voice honeyed like never before.

When there’s only a nod in response the boy smiles sadly, then breathes, “’M a big boy, Harry. I can handle myself without you for ten minutes, baby. You don’t need to…be like this. You don’t need to…You just don’t.” Jeez, Louis thinks, how ineloquent can I be?  _So stupid,_ his Omega hisses, never put out with his Alpha,  _stupid boy._

Of course Harry fails to  _lack_ the eloquence Louis needs to  _relate,_ “I know. I know that. I just can’t control whatever it is that sends me into the mental madhouse. Instinct? Emotion? Both? I don’t know, but you don’t know how it feelsto realize I could have lost you. Or I could so easily.”

 _Oh, baby, no…_ “Jesus, H, it was a bathroom break,” Louis reasons, attempting to stem the sprouting upset.  _I want to be perfect for you. I don’t want you to have to worry because I am incapable of taking care of myself. But I can’t change this. I can’t…I can’t…I can’t…I’m sorry I can’t._

Just before the dam that’s become his mouth falls apart Harry speaks, “It could’ve been something else.”

Clinging to the distraction Louis considers this; even though it’s painful to know that Harry can’t even trust his (impaired) judgement, he’s an Alpha, and Louis can only understand an Alphas processing so much. So, “Remember the other day you said sometimes you need a breather?”

Around him the Alpha tenses, but then hums low in acknowledgement, prompting him, “So do I, baby. You…You overwhelm me.  _This,_ LouisandHarry versus World overwhelms me.  Sometimes I need to just be alone somewhere and collect my wits so I don’t act a proper mess.”

Expecting the worst reaction Louis braces his vulnerable, ingenuous Omega, but is stunned when Harry simply murmurs, “Okay.”

“Okay?” is the response that’s all but torn from his frantic lungs.

“Okay.”

Incredulous, Louis retracts enough to expose his face–hopes his expression is as doubtful as he feels. “Why does that feel too easy?”

“Because we both tend to blow shit out of proportion. That’s why,” is the amused response Louis receives. As his face splits into a horribly dreamy, gooey smile, the boy shakes his head, then warns, “I won’t stop worrying about where you are, Haz, or why you’re there. But I trust you to always come back to me.”

“Oh, lovely,” his laugh is smoky, caressing his every sense, “You think I won’t be losing my mind when you’re not by my side, in my sights? Funny.”

Reassurance causes his heart to stutter in his chest, climbing up his throat. Lowering his lashes, the Omega chews nervously on his bottom lip, then pleads, insecurity budding with a vengeance, “Don’t forget about me, okay? When you need your space don’t forget there’s a boy missing a whole lot of himself. Waiting on you.”

“Now how could I do that when you’re all I think about to begin with?”

Helplessly, Louis shrugs. “I don’t know what goes on in that brilliant mind. Can’t set my hopes too high. Not with you.”  _You could do so much better…I’m sorry I can’t let go._

“Mmm.” Unfazed as ever Harry states, “Well that won’t do. We’re goin’ to have to do something about that. One day soon I will have to tell the story.”

Confusion screams in his tummy as Louis tilts his head, going to ask when Harry carries out thoughtfully, “About a boy unlike any other. A boy I’ve given all my hopes and dreams to. A story for this boy about this boy in front of an entire audience, like the one here tonight. And I hope afterwards this boy will have me as his Alpha forever, that he’ll let me be everything and anything he needs. His sight. His guidance.”

Overwhelmed, Louis sways with how his head spins, struggling to breathe as his heart’s sprouted wings, attempting to reach untouchable heights. Melting, the boy blurts vulnerably, “What does that even mean?”

“A lot. So much,” the Alpha breathes back, the urgency that thrills through the current latching onto his heart. “Would you mate me, Louis? If I asked? Hypothetically speaking.”

At the mere mention of such an incredible leap Louis’ heart stills, then pounds as his breath catches in his throat. “H-Hypothetically speaking?”

“Louis, I need to know where you’re at right now. Just a simple yes or no.”  _Simple?_ Reason shrills.

Desperation is a firestorm alight in his heart; his Omega shrieks, prancing with energized  _yesyesyes’s_ that Louis mirrors with terrified oh  _nonono’s._

Tearing away Louis’s arms round his belly, unconsciously shaking his head. Spiraling under the control of his Omega, the boy stops dead in his tracks, then drifts all too easily into the naïve, desperately in love creature he’s found his inner Omega to be. And the happiness intoxicates his very essence, consuming him with heat as his mouth curves into what must be his prettiest smile. “What are you saying, Alpha?” Somehow Louis still manages to love that, in these moments, there is no doubt, there is no reason, there is nothing but LouisandHarry, AlphaandOmega,  _them._

“We should mate.” Except the undiluted confidence in those words ruins him–Louis recoils, a terrified, cornered animal torn between wants and needs. A freight train runs through his head. An edgy dull knife draws out his every fear, every doubt, in time with delicate hope that numbs the wounds just enough that he knows he’s hurting, but unable to feel much beyond this cloud-nine sensation. Yet his Omega, foolish in his attachment, reckless in his everlasting bonded love, all but squeals.

Biting back at the response Louis breathes faintly, thrashing to hold onto any remaining mental control. “Is Alpha feelin’ alright? Are you running a temperature? Or are you simply out of your bloody mind?”

“Let’s get carried away,” the hypnotic tone reels him in as easy as Harry’s arms. Louis doesn’t hesitate. Can’t bear to. Not when he  _wants_ this, wants to be loved unconditionally and love in return, wants to belong to someone and have someone belong to him ( _this someone),_ wants and wants and oh God he will  _always_ want this. And that might be the scariest part.

∞

                        Always so giving the tiny, vulnerable Omega lurches up to meet his mouth the same, twisting his unruly waves with a desperation Harry mirrors. So desperate. So wild. Wild with the need to  _own_ him. Wild with the need to never lose the best. Second best will never be enough. And Christ he’s selfish,  _greedy_ with his tongue parting Louis’ sweet, petal lips, tasting how eager he is even as he denies _._ “Say yes,” a thousand octaves too deep.  _Stop._ A word he’s heard all too many times. One he fucking  _loathes_ to listen to even as the boy clings to him, leaves impressions, steals all he never knew he had _._ “Why…” Louis gasps as his hands take, hiking him by his thick thighs, forcing his back against the enclosed corridors wall. Closing any distance, the boy’s legs lock around his waist, “are you– _uh, HazHaz–_ rushin’ this?” Broken mewls as Harry plants his free hand on the wall, flexing his hips, watching as the friction causes his sensitive boy to throw his head back (on instinct his hand cups the back of his head, jostling them a bit).

“’Cause I’m selfish,”  _damn it,_ there is no such thing as pride with this boy, “I don’t want…Don’t go. Stay with me. Let me stay with you.  _Ad infinitum_ , etcetera etcetera.”

A breathy noise, so much like  _yes,_ escapes Louis’ pretty parted mouth. Wanting, his hips rock forward, pressing tight against the thick bulge Harry’s sporting for him. “You’re so t-t-territorial. Knew you wouldn’t jus’ say  _okay._ It was a…a…bathroom break!” 

“No. That’s not me,” Harry agrees, mouthing down the line of his slender throat roughly, caressing his smooth skin with his tongue, “And it’s not  _about that.”_ Like this the boy’s arching his throat for him, tempting him, “Christ, wanna mark you so bad right now. With my mouth.”  _Always want to mark you. Show them you’re mine. Only mine._

“N-N-Not a right idea,” Louis protests even as his throat is bared in welcome, fisting his hair so the Alpha’s mouth remains latched on his pulse point; so aware of the vulnerable life he’s handling so wrongly.

“Like mating?” the Alpha grunts, shoving his hips so Louis lets out another beautiful noise, shaking his head like he does when it’s too much. Christ, it’s always too much.

“G-Give me…a reason to believe…this, and it’s yes a million times,” the Omega whimpers, shivering against him.

Just like that the force of his instinctive desire dulls; needles of rejection embed themselves in his chest. Another fire, excruciating, merciless, leaves him to residual flames. “’M not goin’ to force you to say yes, Louis. Not now. Not ever. I’m not going to wait…for you to change your mind when things go wrong,” the breath is ragged against his sweet spot; and though his mind’s lost touch of his want, his body has not; hips pivoting in slow motions, drawing pleasure. “When you say yes it’s going to be infinite times and you’re going to want it  _completely._ Understood?”

Of course the boy only nods frantically.

“Tell me,” the timbre coats his demand. There is no regret that follows; he’s the Alpha. Surely it’s meant to be known?

It’s obvious his Omega knows what Harry is seeking as he’s lowered his face to Harry’s shoulder, breathing little faint breaths there as his movements cease entirely; though his body screams in protest to the sudden let down Louis’ planting wet kisses up his throat until his petal soft mouth is to his ear where he whispers the sweetest words to ever be heard, “I love my Alpha. ‘Cause ‘m saying no now does not mean I don’t love my Alpha. Love my Alpha.”

The strict tension drains from Harry’s frame as his hands trace up Louis’s delicate sides, pleased with how the Omega squirms and giggles though it’s hushed by his shuddering breath. “You sure know how to tear me down, little one.”

“Alpha,” the Omega purrs against his chest, “Love my Alpha most.”

“Yeah? You bett’ah.” Though it’s unintentional, the menace lurks in the shadows of his voice. To ease them both the Alpha buries his nose in Louis’ wayward, flower-field hair. “Otherwise we’re in so much fuckin’ trouble. We’ve already taken this a little too far.”

“What’s that mean?” The note of fear Harry expects does not exist in Louis’ voice.  _Fuck_ what’s been said,  _you’re mine._ The thought beckons his voice, but he’s not yet ready to face the inevitable dismissal again. “You know me. You’re the one I tell my fears to, and well, if my reputation isn’t maintained, little one…You’re never going home again. You’ll be stuck in that God forsaken manor with this Alpha and  _only_ this Alpha.”

When the boy breathes, “The manor is home to me,” in that timid, hopeful tone, the hollow grave that so often aches in his chest is sealed with an eerie sensation. There is no sense to the claim. For as long as Harry’s stayed within its constraints…he’s not been able to find any semblance of  _home._ Until now…home hadn’t existed for him. Until this Omega. Until Louis–the only home he’s ever known.

Except the abrupt realization glitches in his brain, grasping his shoulders. Accustomed to him in ways Harry couldn’t understand the boy curls two fingers in his hair and hums softly, “Spit it out, Haz.”

“How?” There is no hesitation. “How could you possibly find a home in that bloody place?”  _I never could._ Something must be missing–something must be so  _fucked_ in his head that he couldn’t see what Louis can without sight.

“Easy. You’re there.”  _What._ Brows furrowed the Alpha doesn’t have the chance to even deny ( _fuck that, he left that place with his family),_ “You’ve always been there. Your energy is everywhere. Your presence lingers. You have charm and anger and resentment and sadness and all this emotion. I can’t help but be drawn to it…I feel so close to you there.” Annnnnd any response is lost as his throat seizes up– _howhowhow?_ Christ,  _no,_ either he’s been shoved so far up his own arse he hadn’t noticed how much emotion he actually  _lost_ to that Hell, or his mind caved under his denial after all. “Probably makes no sense to you. But that’s just how I am, baby. Stuck on stupid for you.”

Its takes three attempts before he’s able to even clear his throat, then, “Well…everybody plays the fool sometimes. If it so happens to be me…this time I don’t mind. Hell, ‘m the best damned fool for you, kitten.” Somehow he’s able to  _hate_ how true the words are. Then again he’s able to hate anything aside from Louis. Miracles and such.

“’M counting on that, Styles,” the wistful note to the Omega’s voice stalls his heart– _what does that mean?_ What does  _anything_ mean with Louis Tomlinson, wrecking his mind with contradictions and loveliness and  _just._

“Yeah? Yeah. Me too,” I think? “For now let’s play nice, and enjoy this for Ireland at the very least,” the decision is spur the moment with the need to recharge his mental capacity though Louis simply giggles adorably enough that his thoughts stray like they only do when Louis is involved;  _I caused that sound. I caused the emotion behind that sound. Me._ Surely that means he has the potential to bear the same emotional degrees.

Of course some area of his brain apparently hasn’t grown up either, continuing to chant  _I think I can I think I can._ In attempts to steady his sights on resolve Harry sets Louis on his feet. With his back against the wall Louis crosses his arms and pouts. Playful, the Alpha taps his button nose, and Louis, obviously denying the pretty smile toying with the corners of his bow mouth, turns his face with a little, exasperated  _“humph”._ An unsteady laugh forms in his throat as Harry tackles him in an embrace that the Omega struggles against, giggling as Harry sings along to the tune playing in the near distance;  _And I Love Her_ by the Beatles. One of his many favourites.

Stealthily Harry sways them through the open doorway so they’ve reentered the dimly lit ballroom; chandeliers rain gentle light on the scene. Always focused on Louis’ radiance it’s nearly impossible to absorb just how put together Niall’s ceremony is;  _novel,_ with two magnificent throne’s centered on the stage (both occupied by the mated couple, sharing goblets and entrees and love and whatever else it is the two share privately), and the checkered dancefloor (blood red and black tile) gleaming with company. Effortlessly, as normal as they’ve become in Niall’s dominant presence, photographers mainly pointed his way, the Alpha and his Omega become one with the music, swaying in unison.

It’s only when the Omega melts, resting his head over where his heart’s resuscitated itself since Louis’ arrival that Harry drifts, lyric by lyric for only Louis’ precious, sensitive ears to hear, to  _know._

“ _I give him all my love, that’s all I do, and if you saw my love, you’d love him too…I love him…”_ Fitting. Eerily exact.

Soon the boy’s hands lock at the nape of his neck, and Harry’s gentled his palms on the sharp jut of his hips over his trousers, leaning down to accommodate the height difference. Pleased that he’s able to veil Louis from any prying eyes, pleased to have Louis in his arms, welcoming his touch, welcoming  _him_ and his immense baggage. Too much for such fragile shoulders to bear.

No. No, not right now.  _For now…let us stay like this, just LouisandHarry._  Someone, somewhere…allows this.

Counting his blessings, the Alpha does not dare question his sudden luck. Especially not when they find their slow rhythm, an all-encompassing armistice. Happily lost in the eye of their incessant storm. Taken by the Omega’s dreamlike lassitude. A while the songs swell and falter until they…return to the first, “ _Bright are the stars that shine…Dark is the sky…I know this love of mine will never die…And I love him.”_

A hatchet-like sound announces the death of tune before the Alpha pauses, lifting his face to glare at the inexplicable disruption though he cannot rise on his hackles just yet. Applauds erupt everywhere–they are alone on the dancefloor. Seems the life to the others’ festivity died long ago if the crowd that’s gathered on the outskirts to admireis anything to go by. In response to the outbreak of noise Louis flinches, clinging as his lurch of fear dilates his every vein.

“Aha! Happy Feet over here stealing all the attention! Been two hours, lads! World record?” Huh. Well that explains the reaction. Hadn’t felt like quite so long, admittedly. By the little shocked noise Louis agrees–poor thing. “News Flash: Last ones on the dancefloor are next! Ah, tradition!” Looking over the Alpha pins Niall, who’s perched in Josh’s lap, entirely too pleased, his hidden mic enhancing his voice (speakers must be stationed along the walls), with his most impressive scowl.

Despite this Louis relaxes, obviously recognising the familiar voice.

Catcalls and whistles mingle with excited (drunken?) laughter and applauds–giddy anxiety consumes him, not his but Louis’ (the abrupt return of their emotional connection sends phantom thrills through his veins– _fuck, he’s missed this. This undeniable, foretold bond)_ as the boy lifts his head slowly. A timid smile toys at his pretty lips, rose spreading high on his sharp cheekbones.

A murderous glint in Niall’s focused stare spurs him on enough that Harry leans in to breathe, with the perfect excuse to not seem like a possessive demon, “Think we’d best kiss. The king in his throne is watching me with  _‘I’ll neuter-you’_ eyes.”  _Want to claim you in any way I am allowed._

Like the little tease Louis has become, the boy’s little pink tongue runs slowly along his bottom lip, forms the word he’d anticipated, “Please.” Curving his hand along the right side of his precious face Harry dips forward to brush their mouths, pouring the better of his emotions into the brief contact; all soft platonic affection for the only creature he wants to see anymore. Weaving his fingers between Louis’ nimble ones Harry savors how the Omega clings to the mere contact; except too soon it’s over as Louis retreats, pinning him with a brilliant smile that lights up his vividly dull irises.

Another round of applauds that Harry cannot possibly regard with Louis here in his arms…in his bloodstream.

“Come along then, darlin’,” the Alpha drawls in his most privileged voice once the noise dims some decibels, circling his slim waist to guide him away from the dancefloor, towards the dining hall, not quite ready to muster the courage to follow the main revelry (located on the outdoor veranda–eventually they’ll get there. The night’s still early yet).

As the two walk down the crimson carpet a glaring white light follows, as well as an insignificant doting crowd. Their audience gathers on either side of the carpet, photographers and relatives and others of which he cannot identity (nor cares to); passing, Jay smiles secretly around her flute of champagne. Obliviously, the Omega huddles close to his side, hissing, “What is going on?”

“You’ve seemed to attract trouble again. Little menace,” the Alpha teases, pausing for one photo, burying his nose in Louis’ hair, “Smile.” Blinded momentarily an inescapable frustration claws down his throat when a tiny, upset noise,  _Louis’s tiny upset noise,_ tugs at his heartstrings.

“You’re okay, love. Right here.” It’s not convincing with how agitated he’s becoming, influenced easily by his Alpha, by his Alpha’s reaction to his Omega. Overprotective, possessive. Entirely  _wrong._ Yet his hold strengthens nonetheless, an unbreakable band around his boy’s waist, steps sure and confidence until, “Duck down, little one,” he orders, sharply pivoting so Louis’ ahead of him. Both around another terribly placed corner, and confronted by thick, bloodred (Christ, quite  _dreary,_ Ireland is) curtain. Expecting this Harry jacks the material high enough that they can sweep underneath; except Louis’ movements are too unsure, slow, and his too quick. Somehow the curtain catches his unsuspecting Omega. Sending them straight to hell.

With all this commotion Louis is easily distressed, thrashing, effectively tangling himself and completely blowing any refuge the Alpha managed. “Louis. Louis, kitten, quit–,” but the Omega slips up and rips the drapery right from the ceiling hooks, crumpling to the floor with an alarming whimper. A little burrito, the sight threatens to tear him apart as Harry drops to his knees and begins to tear at the material, all the while, “Kitten. Talk to me. Are you okay?” It’s obvious this is far from okay–the boy says nothing, tries to curl up as they are discovered again.

Somehow, numb as flashes illuminate their scene, Harry frees him, unable to feel the enormity of his relief with the noise strengthening, pounding footsteps and  _flickers_ and  _chaos._

 _“Awe, little laddie down!”_  
“Let his Alpha care for him. Poor thing.”   
“He’s blind, y’know? Priceless.”

There is no secrecy to the ridicule in that comment as the bastard responsible takes another photo.

Crimson dowses him–pure like nothing else within him rage reappears. Without permission he’s on his feet, stalking up to the bastard with his skin crawling and demons lighting up his blind stare. Years of practice come into play. With all the restraint he’s salvaged since his time with Louis, the Alpha takes the camera, rather expensive piece, and proceeds to bash it into the wall. Does so multiple times until it’s falling apart in sad pieces, just barely demolished (hands marred with shallow cuts) then, with his most jaunty grin, Harry asks pleasantly, “Well then. Any more pictures, lads?” When there is only silence, gaping mouths and astonished stares, he shoves the device (ruins) back into its owner’s grimy paws, “One word of this…and the fucked camera is the least of your worries.”

Dread snakes between his ribs when Harry turns around to find Louis curled up with his knees to his chest and his face in the opposite direction.  Thick like blood the boy’s humiliation oozes, feeding his limitless fury. Crouching, the Alpha reaches to stroke his shoulder but the Omega shrinks away. “Lou? Louis, get up,” the Alpha rages in his voice, but Christ the result is  _needed._ Jerkily, Louis extends a trembling hand so Harry can help him to his feet.

Without a backwards glance Harry carries him in any direction away from  _there._

Suddenly Louis’s tearing down the marble hall, but his damp hand is locked around his so Harry’s able to overtake his reckless gait. Like this they leave the chaos and shock in their wake–everything else isn’t so easily dealt with.

Paintings blur in his vision, lanterns and décor, beauty; until he brings them to an abrupt halt in an unfamiliar hall with an entirely too open room. It’s only when he’s shut the entrance behind them does Harry realize Louis’s sunk to the marble floor; only then does he realize the room they’ve found.

A round room with ceiling-to-floor windows everywhere looking out onto the magnificent landscape, lit up by pale moonlight and reflection of the skies gloomy overcast. He wishes the Omega could see it, thinks he’d be star-struck with kaleidoscope eyes.

Soundless, Louis sits there with his head bowed in submission and his hands wringing in his lap. “Louis?” A hoarse breath leaves his motionless lips.

Nothing. So much…nothing.

As even breathing might send the distressed Omega over the edge Harry tries again, “I’m so sorry, kitten. It’s bett’ah. You’re okay. Alpha fixed it.” Yeah fucking  _right._ Had he truly ‘fixed’  _it_ his Omega would be  _okay,_ would be…would be…Double-edged, an emotional blade slashes at the sutures just barely holding his pathetic, beating organ together. Out of desperation Harry kneels before him. “Kitten, please, talk to me.”  _Tell me what I need to do to fix this._

“What would Alpha have me say?” the scared, hopeless note to his whisper causes him to flinch; the worst part is Louis shrinks away, hands shielding his face.

“I…Louis, enough. Stop. I…I’m not going to hurt you.” A dark entity creeps through his insides;  _his fault his fucking fault._ And all he wants is that sick  _fuck’s_ blood on his hands, painting his face, coating his dagger his gun his fucking  _grave._ If there is one thing Harry will make sure it’s that  _the monster that dared hurt his Omega_ is dragged to his personal hell by every fucking Devil he’s able to make pacts with. Just to watch him  _suffer_ in death…just to watch him–

As his thoughts stray towards hideous, ugly places, his Alpha rears its fucking head, reacting with an intensity that nearly steals any clarity.  _Not now._

Torn, floundering like an idiot unable to care for his frail Omega beyond violence Harry can only stare; watching as the boy’s breathing hitches. As he’s about to spew some shit Louis lifts his head and laughs stuffily, “I’m such a mess, Alpha. I blew it. So wrong so wrong… _blind y’know.”_ Just like that he’s dissolved into laughter; so forceful he collapses on the marble, so forceful he’s shaking, so forceful he’s almost sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Haz. I’m so sorry I can’t be  _right._ I’m s-s-s-sorry I can’t listen and be good. I’m sorry I can’t give to you what any other Omega could. I’m so sorry Alpha, I’m–,”

“No.”

Another shrilly bout of giggles ricochet along the mirrors of his fissured soul. “No.” Again. “God damn it, Louis,  _enough!”_ Unbidden, the shout is torn from his lungs, ragged as horrors noose claims his throat.

Silence steals the room, stifles the already stale atmosphere. There is only their breaths; Louis’s broken and hitched, Harry’s wild and bated.

Both erratic, both out of control.

Too out of control.

Disgusted with his inability to  _act,_ the animal rips free of his mental constraints. Crimson returns to dye his vision as his nostrils flare with the scent, rosy and delicious, pouring gasoline to an already raging fire;  _mine._ Mine should not be hurt. Mine should not be crying. Mine is first. Mine is always  _first._

A faint noise, an animalistic growl, tears through any quiet. Without permission the Alpha is pouncing, on all fours, braced over the tiny Omega. The motion must startle him as much as it does Harry because he’s sprawled out on his back, thighs falling apart so much like invitation as fluttery hands clutch both of his forearms. Blunt nails bite at his skin, threatening to draw blood;  _fuck_ that’s all he wants. Blood, wounds, scars, an irrefutable claim that he’s secured his place as this Omega’s dominant Alpha.

Every breath is ragged as the Alpha, in control, gazes down at his Omega curiously; wide dewy eyes so open to him swim with alarm and joy. To the animal it’s no surprise; “Alpha,” a whimsical snuffle, voice quivering with the damp tears spiking his thick lashes. “Alpha?”

A low growl forms deep in his throat; seems the animal is incapable of words. A hurricane of instinct and possessive affection for his one and only; a hurricane of rage and destruction for the world. A fine-line separates the two entities in the animal’s compulsions. Twisted, distorted, but blessedly  _there,_ a lifeline for them both as Harry cannot find the will to refasten the restraints. Disgustingly desperate to have his Alpha know Louis’ Omega, to know the animal will treat Louis the same; to trust the side he couldn’t dare to before. 

Desperate enough to put his boy in danger–his priceless naïve boy.

Just the thought bulldozes at his mental state though his Alpha has no care, dipping forward to nose at Louis’ jaw, snarling when he tilts his head enough that his nose is buried in his throat, where his pulse is an erratic drum on his mouth. Luring his senses. Another sound builds in his throat, the scents taste, its emotion; a midnight garden just before its bloom.

Soft, dainty, the Omegas hands trail up his arms, the bunched muscles of his shoulders to find their home on either side of his throat. Rigid, he’s able to feel precisely where the Omega is with his Alpha. A calm unlike any the animals known settles in soft swells that manage to carry the fiery anger to the bottom of its depthless waters. Like this he’s trapped between the pleasure of having his Omega’s touch, and the reality that he’s flirting with disaster. The vibration, the burn–all rising, calling out the darkest, most destructive core of him.

Frozen in place, unable to breathe, Harry calls on control. Prays this euphoric ease stays with his Alpha even after he’s caged the bloody thing once more.

“Alpha,” a tiny broken breath, that of an Omega, calling to his soul with those lonely eyes. Perfect in their shade. And  _fuck_ Harry thinks next time they’re this still, almost  _staring at him,_ heaven help his sorry arse make them stay. “Waited so long for my Alpha. Scared without my Alpha.” Always so bountiful…Christ. There is no way out.

The crumpling foundation collapses on one side–salvageable but not nearly enough. There must be something in these waters. Something wrong. Something  _right._ Its lightning fast–not careful, not affectionate or tender like Louis deserves. Such a fucking  _animal._ Pinning his arms over his head the Alpha finds his soft mouth with his own. Sugar surprise the Omega gasps, so naïve arching into him though the animal is too busy to take the invitation, working the buttons to his trousers with the intention of pealing the bloody material down his creamy thighs.

With every fiber of his warped being Harry knows the animal’s intentions. To take him. At this very moment, on the marble floor.

_And he’s going to be perfect._

Christ, always. Always so perfect for him. Planned.  _“Meant,”_ the lone word echoes throughout the room from his mouth, unwilling to go unnoticed. “Alpha’s,” the Omega mewls, pouring sunshine down his throat, touching places he’s yet to consciously find.

The sound, the  _word,_ the  _agreement,_ lights a violent tremor in him, one that dims his vision and sends phantom thrills up his spine. This, the taking of his sweet boy consumes him, strips him of whatever civilized lid there was on his instinct. An undiluted Alpha: raw, wild and…

On the verge of the scorching implosion that is the animal’s calling card. “Alpha. Alpha,  _stop.”_ So nervous. “My wrists. H-Hurts…”

Terror gives him the strength he needs to bound away from him and stumble across the room. A dull ache marks his slamming into something. A misplaced podium.

“Alpha!”

Sinking to the marble again Harry puts his trembling hands over his face. Like this his body shakes so badly his words come out in waves. “I’m out of my mind…This is…Fuck, I can’t…I need to stay away from you.”  The effort to contain what’s steadily surfacing drains him–sucks the life right from his fucking soul.

“Why? I don’t want Alpha to stop–,”

Easily, Harry talks right over him. “I’m starved for you, Louis. I’m so damned…hungry, but I can’t have you. I won’t…take you.”  _I won’t hurt you. I swear it._

“Alpha,” an adorably scolding, petulant tone is taken, like the Omega is trying to get through to him. Like he possibly  _could. “Why not?”_

“You don’t want me. Trust me, you really don’t want me like that.” Not right now. Christ, it’s not wrong. Can’t be. Louis is naïve. Louis is sweet and beautiful and entirely otherworldly. Except…Louis is hurt. Louis has been hurt. Louis has touched horror and despair and  _oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fucking fuck._ Again his animal snarls, clawing at him, tearing him apart bit by hideous bit.

“I do! I do! I do!”

No matter he is not about to tell him what kind of creature his Alpha really is–not sweet and loving like Louis’ inner Omega. Without much thought Harry chooses to disgust him rather than scare him. “I’ve slept with more than ten Omega’s this year alone.”

There’s a long, welcomed pause. “Oh…” crushed–the mere sound, the scent of his abrupt anguish.  _Ruins._ “Oh…”

“I don’t want to lie to you. Ever. So let me be very clear. I’ve been with too many Omegas, none of whom I’ve cared about. And I don’t want you to ever think I’d use you like that.”

When there is no other response, unable to stand the distance between them, unable to stand not  _knowing,_ the Alpha dares to look up–the boy’s upright, kneeling again with his hands wringing in his lap, though his pale face is blank, and his beautiful eyes are distant, haunted.

“I…I’m glad you told me,” Louis, now  _truly_ his spirited boy, says at last. “But why…? Why d-did you…? Actually, don’t answer. I don’t think I want to know.” By the last sentence his voice falls to an apathetic whisper. Hooks cling to his skin, an agonizing torture of ringing words.  _Why?_

All he wants to have is an appropriate answer. But they all sound like pathetic excuses.  _I felt incomplete. I felt alone. I was alone. I had nothing. Not emotionally._

Really, he thinks tiredly,  _I’m disgusting._

“I…I’d rather be with you, kitten.” Glass shards embed themselves in the walls of his throat. It’s almost too difficult to speak, damn well too difficult to breathe. “Not…Not being with you is…torture. I want you so badly I can’t stand it. And not just physically. I want to be in your heart. And your soul. And…I just…I…”  _I’m so sorry I cannot change what I’ve done._ Lost, the Alpha blows out what feels like his last breath. “Can you even honestly tell me that you want me now? Although…hell, even if you did, the way you go to my head, it’s like I told you before. I’m scared of losing control. You affect me differently than any other Omega does.”

Another long silence the boy only shatters once he’s ready to tear himself apart, seconds from splitting wide open and  _begging_ for  _anything_ Louis’ willing to give him like the animal he is.

“Tell me again that you’re miserable we’re not going to make love tonight,” he prompts sadly. Like never before Harry wishes he could hand himself over on a silver platter for the Omega to decide his fate. So fucking weak, he  _can’t._

“So fucking miserable. Achy, like you say. Hard all the time." 

“Tough.” A little, bitter laugh that constricts barbwire around his brain. “Gee, I’m a tosser, aren’t I?”

“No…’S me. All me, kitten…I just–”

“Stop…” an unsteady plea that causes his jaw to tick with what it takes to shut the fuck up. “Just…stop.”

Silent with all the stupid shit he’s yet to spout scrambled in his mind the Alpha examines the Omega, expecting no other reaction when Louis lifts his head. A radiant smile illuminates the room better than any moonlight could, stealing the breath from his lungs. “What if this were the last night LouisandHarry were given?” Last night. A boulder sits on his chest–or lodges itself there, right where his heart should.

In a flat, cold voice Harry answers, “Live it while we could.”

Like the tone takes no effect on the butterfly measures away, fluttery and inattentive. “For one last night?” A moth. Maybe. Smitten with fire no matter what hell it’s spurred by. “Yeah,” hoarse, unconvincing even to his own ears. Confidence faltering it’s all too easy to care.

“Okay. We’re going to pretend this is our last.” Simple. So…simple for him. Longing creeps through the hollows of his struggling ribs, and his mouth just won’t fucking quit, “Why? Why would we do that?”

“Baby,” the mere whisper caresses the air, pierces his eardrums as effective as any scream would. “Wanna forget. Forgiven. Love more than anything else. We can’t manage that, can’t we?”

Like some fucking  _puppy,_ he’s tempted to agree just so that faltering smile returns to its potential purity. Except…he’s never been one to pretend. Not with Louis. Pride be damned. “Is the idea enough?”

“’S gatta be,” the boy says softly, then around sudden bursts of giggles, “Show me, Haz. Show me what it means to live.”

“I can think of better ways to do so,” the Alpha says darkly, unable to take the words back as Louis’ sharp little canines clasp over his bottom lip.

“Want to ask what that means,” a shy, self-conscious breath before, “But I want my way more.”

It’s his latest _thing_ –being Louis’ bitch. “You’re in luck. Tonight I’m your Fairy Godmother. How many wishes would you like?”

“Just one.” There is no hesitation to the passionate breath. It does not waver. Nor does his curiosity, “Which would be?”

“’S a secret. ‘M saving it for the next shooting star.”

Magnetized, drawn to him, Harry does not realize he’s on his feet until he’s looming over the tiny, folded boy whose fringe shades his beautiful eyes even as they are directed at him. “How will you know when the time comes?”

Louis smiles softly, expressing emotions he can’t think to distinguish when the answer comes to light, “I have my Alpha to see for me.”

&&

“Drinks, anyone?” Liam bounds into their private seclusion with an all too pleasant air. As the Alpha stiffens, Louis’ silverware clatters against his plate. “Please! Seems Haz has lost his party streak. Either that, or it’s all a ruse! The stories, the reputation! Falsities!”

“Oh, trust me, it’s not a ruse,” the puppy (Alpha, whatever) agrees as his jaw ticks.

“Well I’m beginning to see otherwise, Payno.”

Just his luck–of course Louis’ made him out to be the martyr. Wronged by societies standards or whatever else bullshit goes along with the title. Some title; at the thought the Alpha snorts, evading both Omega and Alpha to stare at the ring on his index finger. A band bound by memories. Bound by reminders and pretty promises. Pretty promises reflected in the pretty gems the colour of those pretty irises.

Taking the seat on Louis’ left, Liam sets down what he’s offering with an almost amusing mischievous streak in his glazed stare. Compared to the shit railing through Harry’s head this Alpha is a Saint. Liquor is the worst Liam could possibly introduce Louis to…Just the realization prods at him, until he’s unconsciously centered the violence lurking in his stare on Liam. Except the other Alpha is too comfortable with him ( _when this fucking happened, he can’t say, but he’s not feeling to partial to the idea),_ smiling cheerily before leaning in to whisper, “Jay’s outside doing some sort of limbo. Don’t ask. Just be grateful these barbarians have distracted her.”

“I don’t see the need to get plastered tonight,” Harry murmurs through clenched teeth.

“Sometimes, love, you must stop and ask yourself,” a dramatic pause in which Louis leans towards him just the slightest, then, “What would Niall do?”

Like the fucking idiot he’s becoming the Alpha barks out laughter–the sort that is strained due to resistant lungs. _Lord save me._ This boy. Creature. Seraph. Drags him down like no angel should _._ Stealing, rather than saving.

“A-plus, Lou!” Liam encourages happily. “You’ve got ‘im laughin’! Now for the drinks!”

The moment is lost. In seconds he’s sobered up, rigid as Louis twists to face him, leaning forward into his side to nose at his jaw. Alert, too damned alert, Harry gives no response outwardly despite the volcanic eruption that’s wrecking through him. “Please, Harry,” honeyed, the boys voice lingers, hinting at the sweetest surrender. “Not _ah_ lot. Just enough.” Enough. When is enough really _enough_ anymore, the older Alpha wonders. Surely the little LouisandHarry have developed should be just that... because everything they feel they feel insanely. Yet maybe that’s the reason it’s _not_ enough. Because one taste left him like this: an addict. A parasite. Always wanting _more more more,_ to reach a high like no other.

An unsteady, useless breath escapes him before, “Do what you want, Louis. You do anyway.”

“That’s not _fair,”_ there’s an obvious pout to his voice now though his gaze hasn’t left his rings. And when he tries to force his stare where instinct tells it _belongs,_ he _can’t._ Staring straight ahead at the scattered crowd like he’s interested. Most guests have returned to the dancefloor, some have strayed to the bar, and others have started towards the canopy leading out onto the outdoor deck. Most of the noise, besides the music, seems to emanate from the outside. Both Niall and Josh appear to have ditched their own post ceremonial greetings, or followed their crowd into the scenery, “…I want to have fun! And do fun stuff! I’m the bloody buzzkill! You just…you…” the last of Louis’ tirade is all Harry manages to catch–the message is clear.

Somehow his stare finds Liam (the poor bloke looks ready to run with his tail between his legs). Considering Louis’ limits only Harry picks out five shot glasses, then, blankly, “You’re dismissed, Payne.”

Before his Omega can find his voice Liam hops up, takes the tray, and in seconds, with a contrite, _“See ya!”_ bails. Easily handled, the Alpha thinks, perhaps a bit too pleased. Holding off on the drinks the Alpha maneuvers his seat so he’s facing the boy, then, carefully retrieves the abandoned fork on his plate to twirl the cheesy pasta until it’s a proper mouthful. “Open.”

Mouth pursed the Omega clings to their silence. Like this the Alpha stares like Louis cannot–his muscles jump in agitation at the mere remembrance, and, “Five more bites.”

“Unlike the others I refuse to take orders from you,” Louis murmurs calmly. Longing lashes at him. It’s obvious the Omega has gone into some form of hiding, withholding his eyes with purpose.

With a steadying breath Harry murmurs, summoning the same calm into his voice, “You are especially argumentative tonight, kitten.”

“Am I?” Louis asks coolly. Unlike him–not Louis. Feisty even without unsheathing his claws.

“Mmm,” humming low in his throat Harry stretches a bit before relaxing with an all too together smile. Without much thought, he’s offering his white flag, “How about this, five more bites, and it’s an all you can drink party.”

Difficult as it is to placate this Omega it’s no surprise there is no reaction. Except, “Does that apply to LouisandHarry?”

A restless charge settles over him–something turns itself inside out for this boy too often. Christ, maybe it’s not such an ugly thing either. “Always.”

Just like that Louis’ crushing burst of joy captures him–a mental photograph. The sensation is as priceless. With a delighted squeal the boy nearly falls back in his chair lurching for him. On instinct Harry’s grabbing ahold on the seat and bearing down so it’s on the tile once more though the boy’s now climbed into his lap, claiming his attention swiftly. Warm palms shelter either side of his face as velvety lips caress his unsuspecting ones. “Forever and ever and ever and ever and–,”

Amused, the Alpha chuckles, softly as to hold onto the moment, “Glad to know that’s still on your mind, little one.”

With their foreheads touching Louis pauses, “Know what’s still on my mind?”

“LouisandHarry, ‘til the end of time,” despite his best attempts Harry’s voice smolders with unsaid demands. When the boy leans backwards it’s only enough to drive him to peer through lowered lids.

The sight of all the sweet violent emotions vivid in those beautiful eyes is _it._

An internal burn takes root and uses his stomach for kindling, the heated smoke from that fire fills his lungs, crowding any oxygen. _Christ, he is it._

There are no _buts, and, ifs_ about _it._

“ _Ad Infintitum.”_

&

            Gushing with excitement Louis giggles from where he’s seated on the deck, swinging his legs while his hands clutch the railing. Leaning against the structure beside him, the Alpha listens to the boy fawn, “’Az! We’re the same height like this! Look, look. Our heads. They _touch.”_ To prove his point the Omega knocks their heads with far too much force. A wince escapes him, and it’s then he decides Louis’ surely had enough now as the boy dissolves into another bout of giggles.

“Oops?” he prompts quietly.

Still on with those endearing little hiccup like giggles Louis leans forward with an all too pleased grin, “Hi.”

And he’s fucking mental. Grinning like a backwards idiot. Thinking, _how many times can I fall in love?_

Around them another song pours out over the deck, one he’s not heard before though Louis’ face lights up brilliantly, “Oh my God!” Just like that’s he’s gushing again. “This is my song! Niall promised! I’ve been waiting all night!”

Brows furrowed the Alpha doesn’t have the chance to react with Louis hopping down (wobbling rather disconcertingly), “Come ‘ere, Haz,” the boy beckons happily. “I wanna dance!” And, before he can get one word in, Louis taken his hands, spinning _him around,_ and laughing when he crouches to make break the move. And he’s tugging him close, finding this is _okay,_ better even, watching him twirl in the nearest low camp fire with others marveling much the same as Louis smiles that _‘I’m-really-quite-smitten’_ smile that steals his breath more than the low-level exertion.

And so it carries on, following Louis’ movements, all elegance and intoxicated grace, letting him swing his arms out at certain points, then bringing him right back in so his arms are stretched behind him, delicate fingers foraging in his curls. As their pace slows, everything else does the same. There is no one else in the world. Just them, taken by each other, gladly caught in the music.

Brilliant blue pools bore like never before. All the while Harry wonders when _this_ happened. When he’d acquired such _luck_ as to have this ethereal creature _welcome_ him. Louis hums to the closing tune, swaying, and Harry blurts, “I–,” as soon as Louis frowns, crowing petulantly, “No! Play it again! Play it again!”

In seconds, the intuitive boy’s attention returns, “Sorry!” Fingertips leave warm trails along his jaw. “What was that?” _I don’t want to ever let you go._   _Just want to love you so bad, kitten. Drown out every distraction. Back to just LouisandHarry. Like it should always be._

“Play it again! Play it again! Play it again!” Stupidly, he’s shouting to the DJ, where Niall’s (hmm, there ‘e is!) taken over, with too large headphones over his ears though he’s shooting them his brightest grin. A thumbs up gives him his request. Just like LouisandHarry, the song is brought to life. Again and again and again until Niall arrives to claim his right hand, winking as he whisks Louis away (quite literally as the boy looks as shock as Harry).

Alone, curls wilted in his face Harry stands there watching until they’ve returned indoors, out of sight. Through mechanical movements the Alpha heads towards the little, noisy crowd that’s gathered around some attraction. When he’s parted the crowd enough that he’s able to see what’s so absorbing Harry’s jaw goes slack–before them is a thick rectangle of angry, crimson coated greying coals, sided by flames that mark their scorching temperature. This is not the extreme shock–no it’s that Jay’s midway through walking across the fire. Gown bunched to the knees as she crows to Lottie, and the crowd, who encourages with long, delighted trills of laughter and applauds.

Before thirty seconds is up Jay’s walk has finished and she’s hoping onto the mats of artificial grass. Staggered, the Alpha approaches where Lottie’s fluently praising and teasing Jay, who’s red-faced peering down at her blackened, yet unharmed feet. “Oh! Harry, darling!” the older Omega laughs happily, lowering her skirts to straighten, “Nice to finally have a moment with you! Long night, eh? Where’s–,”

“He’s inside with Niall. Have no idea what they’re up to.” The _sadly_ goes unsaid, though Jay hardly notices in her relief. “Oh, good, good. He’s safe with Ni. Lovely boy. Such a happy times.”

Such happy times…Yeah. Yeah, Harry thinks, dipping cautiously towards the surface emotions to find nothing but positivity _._ An oddity to him even now. With a sharp breath the Alpha hears his voice underneath the buzzing crowds, “Did it hurt?” 

Identical blue stares pin him until he’s itching to fidget. Awkward only around the ‘family’.  “Oh! The walk? Not at all! A rush! Should go for it, H.”

“Yeah, H,” Lottie mocks with a mischievous grin so much like her brothers. “Go for it!” 

Rising to the challenge, Harry grins wickedly, “You just wait little girl.”

With an altogether amused snort Lottie motions him forward as Jay hooks their arms and hauls him around to the vacant starting line. At the sight of the next poor fool to participate the crowd goes wild all over again. Despite his screaming survival instinct the Alpha toes out of his boots and reaches down to remove his socks, tucking them into his boots and straightening again, eyeing the steamy scene before him warily.

“DO IT DO IT DO IT!” _Don’t fucking rush me._

And he starts to take his first step into the trap when an Irish squawks halts him, “Not so fast! Yer missin’ yer trusty sidekick.”

Niall appears alongside Louis, who stumbles forward with an all too giddy air to him. Peering down the Alpha finds he’s already prepared, Harry’s boots by his little bare feet. “Not comin’, Ireland?” he asks as his fingers weave between Louis’.

“Ain’t that stupid,” the Irish boy snickers, quieting like never before when Josh comes up behind him seconds following. “Go on, lads! I love the smell of burning flesh!” the mated Alpha calls, winking like that’s not out of the ordinary.

“We’re made of steel!” Louis retorts, squeezing his hand, and, speaking to him only, “Let’s show ‘em what we’re made of, Styles.”

Pride swells in his chest, and Harry breathes, “Time we made it happen, baby,” before taking the first step. It’s warm, not quite what he’d expected, but welcomed as Louis lets out his own relieved breath, “Not so bad.”

Smiling softly it’s easy to forget their environment. Together the two walk briskly over the flaming coals. While the Alpha marvels over the phenomena, logic screams _ash._ Ash. Much like his brain the moment Louis giggles, hopping onto the grass and bouncing, “Felt the heat for a mo’ there!” Somehow the explanation carries, no matter the sharp climb of noise. Harry frowns, “Are you alright, kitten?”

Waving one dismissive hand, Louis sighs, “Alright? Bett’ah than that, Styles,” Leaning into him the Omega stretches on his tiptoes, mouth just barely brushing his ear, “I am so happy.”

Already, this will be an old memory Harry won’t be able to shake. Not with this Omega smiling that oh-so-sweet smile, just for him, batting thick wispy lashes, stealing him with every hello and slaughtering him with too many goodbyes. And _fuck_ this is the trouble with Louis Tomlinson.

The trouble with Louis is nobody loves trouble as much as Harry Styles. Which _fuck_ it’s not _right._ Trouble. One word a lesser Alpha might never find in this Omega. It’s that Louis does so _well,_ accepting the faction norms and society’s placement for those with imperfections (bastards). Normal. No. Louis isn’t that perfected. An impressive performer, suppressor, liar, even.  But nowhere _near_ society’s standards.

Christ, there is nothing meek and quiet about this Omega in his prime element. Not from what Harry’s seen. He’s no fortune teller, especially not with Louis’ scattered puzzle pieces, but he’s the damnedest hunch that once the Omegas grown into his skin (though by now, by Councils claims, it’s too late for his intrinsic Omega to reach his capacity of development) he’s going to move mountains with mere words, he’ll know no bounds, no limits, no _hurt._

Unlike Harry…Louis is going to heal. Because damn it there isn’t one person who won’t _let_ him. Or there won’t be. Not with his say.

Fuck, all he’s doing is wasting this boy’s time. And it doesn’t matter. They are, and always will be, timeless.

&&

            Another too-damned-long time passes without Louis, as Niall apparently hadn’t had enough “quality time,” or something of the other. Throughout this time Harry’s migrated more than necessary. Once Jay had joined Niall’s mum in an entirely too tearful gush he’d faded into the background as unobtrusively as possible. Amongst the chaos he’d parked his arse at the most convivial sitting area around another low fire. And he’s in light conversation with the gathered elderly females, taking perhaps a bit too much satisfaction charming them into scandalized laughter, easily taken by their stories and times. Much more appealing than the obnoxiously loud, drunkenly pleased, Alphas talking politics.

Probably where society deems Harry belongs. Ah, fuck ‘em.

It’s only when the Alpha peers down at his watch that he realizes two hours too long has passed since his last sight of Louis. Longing scores fresh, excruciating lacerations etching into his bones. It’s gone. There is no buzz. And there hasn’t been a while. Frustration bites back with ten times the strength as the question nags suddenly: _why?_

Why why why seems to have become his trademark. All the Alpha can manage anymore. Questions that have taken far too long to answer, and will continue as such in this web of mindfucks.

With an unsteady breath Harry bids the lovely ladies goodnight, sent on his way with too many kisses and hugs, and a slap on the arse by one of the more frisky ( _he does not blush, he doesn’t)._ Their scents linger. It’s the buzzkill of all buzzkills.

Without permission his legs take him back to their previous, vacated spot against the banister bracketing the veiled alfresco deck. Locked on the fire it’s no surprise it’s lost its beauty. At one point he wouldn’t have been surprised, having never found one priceless possession, lesson, emotion to capture his attention more than two months’ time. Somehow within the span of all these tireless months…he’s changed.

Already his molds been reshaped. In the continuous process of being unfolded, bent, manipulated, _changed._

Change.

A cold sweat breaks over his skin. One he’s content with blaming on the weather, because despite the lively bonfires emanating heat and the ambience the unions warm joy from what seems to be every breathing creature in the vicinity, it’s still cold. He’s so fucking _cold._ A constant ache spreading frostbite through him.

Christ, he’s always so bloody _cold_ without Louis’ touch. Hooked on the mere sustenance it brings him. Unable to sleep when there is no bundle of warm breaths, no gentle rise and fall to mark those gentle breaths, no endearing snuffles and restless movement…Without the Omega’s life-force he’s unable to function. It’s wrong. It’s twisted. It’s control. Control over a situation he’s more than powerless to resist.

The creeping suspicion that this sprouting need to guide his blind hurting Omega is _control_ lurks in the shadows of his mind. A rancid disease festering in the hollows of his beings. All the corners and edges and cracks that mar his beaten bloody soul. Or maybe he’s realizing somewhere deep in the containment zone of his essence love never lasts for his kind. Instead he’s meant to find other means to make it without, alone. It’s no shocker, really–he’s always lived like this, maintaining a comfortable distance. Sworn to believe he’s content with loneliness no matter the ‘faith’. 

But no more…

Like the leech Harry is there is no resisting. Louis beckons. Harry takes and covets and controls. Like most everything the Alpha is meant to have what the Alpha wants. As long as what the Alpha wants…mirrors the desire.

As if Louis could possibly _know._ Fuckin’ hell the Omega is still so _young._ So naïve. Sheltered–an Omega worth more than any diamond, any star. Above all the measly materials this life can propose. 

This, no _someone,_ should _stop him._

Should stop him before it’s too late. Too late, too soon.

 _Like they could,_ a derisive laugh shuffles his insides. They couldn’t. It just wouldn’t fucking _work._ Because Harry doesn’t give any fucks outside of his Omegas wants, no matter the price to be paid emotionally, financially. Hell, could the Alpha gouge his own eyes out and offer them to Louis he’d do so in a heartbeat. There is no cost, offer, opportunity, _no more than this. Then LouisandHarry._

Louis is _his._ The bond is there to stay. Boundless in its supremacy. And for an Alpha of any standing bonding happens only once. He is beyond reason.

He knows. He’s _aware._ Harry knows the stakes to this state of mind. Anyone who dares to step in his way, to pose a threat, will pay in blood that’s spilt and guzzled. Just the idea has his Alpha foaming at the mouth, fucking _thing._ No limits to what he’d do to ensure his claim, his position.

Just that might be the worst part. Christ, his slippery slope formed long ago. Nothing, no one, can change what’s been done. Except…Louis. _Not happening._

A mission, a _calling,_ Harry will guarantee his Omega stays happy, satisfied, as recklessly in love as he, taken care of in every possible way. And oh _fuck_ if even then he loses him, he can suffer without the fault. For now he will _not_ disappoint. He will do this _right._

Drawn, the Alpha’s gaze finds the object of his attention. Despite the perfume department he’s been forced into it’s his own bonding scent, dark and sensuous, that masters. Coating his skin.

Unbidden, hunger sears through his veins, straight to where it’s meant to go as his cock fattens in trousers, bulging against the material of his trousers, strained at the zipper. Faintly, he thinks the alcohol consumption might be the cause, but he’s in motion before the thought goes far. Crossing the walkway, the nobodies, until he’s found his destination, met destiny, looming.

Oblivious in his obvious intoxication the Omega relaxes the instant instinct tells him his Alpha’s returned. “I haven’t ‘ad one otha drink, ‘Azzy. Sides the few with Ni, but I’ve been ah good boy just like you told me and made sure I had Li and mum and Ni keep me ‘round. But I thought–,” but the sound forming low in his throat interrupts as Louis’ face tilts.

“Missed you.”

The smile that blooms on Louis’s face is nothing short of the sun’s radiance, the expression transforming his features into a beauty so resplendent, he takes Harry’s ever-loving breath away.

Between them the current flares. Caving in, leaning close, too fucking close, “Want my good boy,” the Alpha rasps into the curve of his ear. “Want my good boy to tell me yes. Want my good boy trembling and screaming and takin’ me. Gonna be my good boy?”

So still, so soundless aside from the broken breaths, Louis does not respond. “Answer me.”

“Good boy?” the boy asks breathily, little hands splaying on the bared skin of his chest. As his muscles jump, so does his cock, screaming for the same touch. A hiss strays. “Alpha wants me?”

A pure drill of lust wrecks through him, this time, recalling where they are, Harry beats the cravings back savagely.

Except his hand drifts down his stomach, lingering over the buckle of his belt, caressing back and forth, back and forth. A rhythm that causes his hips to jerk forward as his hand buries itself in the boy silky hair, and his mouth to ghost down to his sharp jawline. “Alpha wants you, kitten. So fuckin’ bad right now. All the time.”

A reactive motion to the pained little noise Louis gives, the Alpha tries to tear away, but the boy is clinging to him, “No, no, no. I wanna. Just…Mum’s t-taking me _home home_ tonight.”

“Says who?” the Alpha demands around the lick of pain going off in his chest like a match strike.

“Mum,” the boy moans plaintively.

Straightening to his full height Harry murmurs stoically, “Not happening. I’ll sort this out.”

“Nothing to sort. I already tried. She’s not havin’ it. Not even from Harry Styles,” the Omega mumbles, huddling close so his heads resting on Harry’s chest. Jaw working, the Alpha tries to think around the beautiful nightmare consuming his thoughts. “We’ll see.”

 _You’ll see,_ the words echo, hostile residue emerging from the woodworks of his mind. Before the echoes reach Louis, the Alpha fishes his mobile from his pocket to call on Liam, who doesn’t answer (idiot), moving onto the next best, Lottie, who blessedly knows what it means to answer the phone. When she’s assured him she’s on her way _alone,_ Harry murmurs, “All taken care of. When Lottie’s here I’ll set out on my mission.”

Grimacing, the Omega mutters, “I don’t need a babysitter, Haz.”

“Well I can’t have you sitting here, looking pretty, all by your lonesome,” he says lightly, stroking stray strands of hair from his alcohol flushed face, “Behave. Let me have this reassurance.”

With an entirely too exasperated sigh the boy shoves his hand away, but says sullenly, “Leave me to sulk.”

“Just a little faith, kitten,” the Alpha presses, taking his reluctant hand to stroke his knuckles. “Can I have a smile?”

“You can have this.” Baring his little canines, expressing his subtle sass, Louis snatches his hand back again, then turns away in dismissal.

Attempting to stifle his amusement, Harry mocks playfully, “Mmm, even bett’ah, feisty little kitten.” Catching sight of Lottie, the Alpha takes his jaw in sure fingers, dipping forward as Louis reacts beautifully. Wide, bottomless stare clinging to his, breathing gentle and warm. “Kiss me good luck.”

The proximity is delicious as the boy stretches enough that their mouths nearly brush, so close the air is their breaths mingling. And it’s when Harry tries to close the miniscule distance that Louis retreats, planting his bum on the banister again with an adorably pleased grin. “Such a good boy, yeah?”

“I got what I wanted, didn’t I? Your smile is lovely.”

As he’s walking away the Alpha catches an indignant groan. It might be the best damned sound he’s heard all night. It won’t stay the best for long.

&&

A spiteful creature, Louis refuses to be bested. Not this time. For once the Omega wants to compel an extreme reaction from his Alpha. One that will haunt them like no other. Unforgettable–tonight Louis wants to show his Alpha _._ Wants to climb down his mantelpiece, and show there’s _more_ to him than his vision. He doesn’t want the Alpha to forget that he’s _more_ than _this_ pitiful creature unable to do more than run his mouth. He _can_ be as good an Omega as the others. Vision or not. Tonight, Louis vows to prove so to them both.

And so, the boy is on the hunt. In search of the remedy. Something, prior to introductions, the boy never thought he’d enjoy so much: liquor. From what he’s observed alcohol is _fun._ Which is exactly what Louis _needs_ to keep his Alpha from straying.

It’s only once he’s ditched Lottie (‘unintentionally’ lost in the crowd as they’re on their way to get the not-so-fun beverages) that Louis realizes his plans aren’t quite thought out. Not at all.

Alone, on his own like he so rarely is (okay, _never_ is), alarm overwhelms him. Numb, it’s difficult to find any equilibrium, fumbling against horribly _warm_ bodies with no sense of direction in this alien environment. Senses stunned, Louis’ hands tremble, itching to grabble, to _grasp_ onto _something, anything_ that can act as his lifeboat and guide him back to shore, back to his Harry. _Oh no, oh no, oh no._

Terrified, the only thought that forms is _help me help me help me._  Much the same his lungs are petrified, aching for fresh, scentless air, the rote rhythm losing its balance. Lightheaded, the crowd is oblivious to his mental pleas, shoving him every which way with only dim apologies and swarming noise.

_Make it stop. Make it stop._

A sharp thrum fires up in his ears. An agonizing warzone.

It’s too much at one time. Too much stimulus. Oh, no, oh, no, oh–heavy, so _heavy,_ as to drag him down, a claw closes around his shoulder.

A scene shatters his mind;

_“Get out!” A sharp pain sizzles in Louis’ messy brain as Daddy’s shout seems to shake the walls. From where he’s hidden underneath the table, the tiny boy curls up as small as can be–Louis can be quite small. He’s learnt to be over these weeks. Mummy says it will get better. “It has to, baby,” but Louis doesn’t think she believes it. So the boy can’t either. It’s nice…when Daddy’s nice, that is. Sometimes, when Louis comes home, Daddy is not so nice._

_It’s his fault. Of that he’s sure. No matter what Mummy says, Daddy does not want him home. Not until he’s better._

_“Get your whore arse out of my house! And take that fucking disgrace with you! And when I find you, it’d better be gone!”_

_“You monster! That is your son!”_

_“That is NOT mine! That…thing is not of my blood!” All at once the noise has come to an end with one, piercing clamor._

_Trembling, Louis peeks through his fingers. Like this, he can see Mummy. She’s on the tile, clutching the right side of her face, her pretty hair in a wild mess, hiding her face._

_“Get up!” Another petrifying roar. “You are one fucked up whore! You should have terminated that thing! You should have listened to me! Where is he?” Shoes storm past him. “WHERE IS HE?” Noise wrecks through the house. Shatters. Louis wonders if a person can shatter like the glass table in the living room. Daddy can shatter people, Louis decides. Please, Daddy, don’t shatter me._

_Mummy makes a sobbing noise. “Stop! Please stop! We’ll go!” Daddy comes back. Daddy hurts Mummy. He doesn’t mean to…but he does. Louis hates when Daddy hurts Mummy more than he hates when Daddy hurts him. “I WANT HIM TO GO! NOT YOU, YOU’RE MINE!” Painful tears form in his strained stare. Me? This time Mummy does not scream. Mummy curls up small. Like him. She’s crying, “I’m sorry, Louis, I’m sorry, baby boy, I’m sorry…”_

_Louis has his fingers in his ears, screwing his eyes shut just like Mummy told him. “You don’t have to look when you’re scared, baby. Just close your eyes. Mummy’s here.” In his head Mummy’s voice is a comforting coo, and Louis thinks his heart is not trying to leave his body anymore. Except…the terror is too great to deny._

_Louis lifts his lids to stare through blurry, indistinct eyes as silence resumes._

_Daddy turns. And the small boy can see his boots as he stomps back into the kitchen. A belt is wrapped around his tight fist. He is trying to find him. Daddy always finds him–he stoops down and grins. Tonight, he smells nasty. Like those fags and that icky liquor._

_“You’re gonna pay, you little fuck up.”_

A chilling wail tears him from the memory. Louis puts his head in his hands as Daddy drags him from the crowds. Backwards. Backwards. Backwards. “Harry!” Another scream tries to rip up his throat, but all that surfaces is a struggling, weak gasp.

“Louis,” Louis _knows_ _His_ voice. Knows this can’t be him. Yet… _Daddy_?

“Please, don’t shatter me,” the boy begs around the agony. A past demon’s branded its name to his skin, and no amount of holy water could banish it. Scars piece him together. And that might be the worst part. _Don’t shatter me. Not again._

A devastating silence gathers, shedding light on his ugly.

In his mind the boy thrashes against the onslaught. Physically, the anguish has numbed him, binding him to his minds ruins. Caged, instinct strips him of any humanity; gives him what he needs to _escape._ Clawing, the Omega is an animal, teeth and nails. Daddy is not used to such struggle. It’s his advantage.

Daddy’s shackles, rusted with time, rip free from the foundation. Louis runs, runs like he’s _mad._ Shoving, plowing, dodging Daddy’s followers even as his muscles scream in protest to their sudden stretch. Like his soul’s come apart at the seams, his muscles prepare to give into dystrophy.

A cruel reminder that is he is permanently blind, Louis slams into something. The force shoves him backwards. The pain drags him down. In surrender, the boy brings his limbs around him in defensive and braces himself for the inevitable beating.

…except the pain never materializes physically.  An inward wreckage.

Mummy finds him like this.

Reality does not. 

&&

            On the precarious edge of madness the Alpha watches Jay hustle the curled up, trembling creature with wild, vacant eyes into the backseat of the vehicle. Twitchy, Harry waits even as Niall and Josh and Liam and all the fucking others have been sent away with weak assurance and promises to call, shot to hell with agitation, until Jay approaches. Like this the female’s age shows in the tired, somber in her stare. “Well, against my parental instinct, you’re staying with him tonight.”

Christ, after tonight even Harry feels aged by measures. “He doesn’t want me around.”

Jay sighs. “Get in the car, Harry. He will in an hour or so. Give him some recovery time. He’s had quite the episode.”

 _Episode_. Wired, the word buries knives in his side as Harry drags one shaky hand down his face. Words lost the Alpha does not have to force motion. Wild with instinct, there is no hesitation as the Alpha climbs into the backseat. _Oh, kitten…_ Sorrow snakes between the hollows of his ribs, constricting until he’s lost his breath. It doesn’t matter. It’s an insignificant loss when Louis’ lost, swallowed by an inconceivable tempest. More than ever Harry wants to drown in the same waters. To know his pain. To bear its weight. It will crush him–he’s willing to be crushed. Over and over and over by this boy. Until he’s flat and lifeless.

As long as the life glows within his Omega. As long as he’s witness to his happiness.

Watching now Harry thinks it’s too damned cold outside, but one day, under the sun, he’ll find his way. God…this boy deserves to find his way. Even if Harry’s just a step to climb on his way there.

The distance between them feels like miles. Louis is happy with it while Harry can’t be. Huddles, nearly plastered on the opposite side, clutching his coat, thin and not nearly enough to protect him from the weather that’s left frost on the windows, the boys vacant stare does not waver.

A ghost of the boy he knows. White lips, pale face, and blind eyes. A bruise is forming along the right side of his face.  

With his heart in hibernation Harry jerkily removes his coat, daring to reach out, only to be greeted by a dreadful response. A feeble, nearly inaudible sound as Louis shrinks away from him.

“’S Harry, baby…” his throat is too tight, even when he’s swallowed thickly. “Take my coat. It’s freezing.”

There is no response. A vacant stare. One, slow blink.

“It’s pointless,” Lottie offers quietly. It’s only then Harry realizes she’s seated in the passenger side before him. “He’s been this way since... Mum says this hasn’t happened in ages. He’s not here right now.” _Then where the fuck is he?_ the shout is lodged in his throat. Refusing to believe this, the Alpha tries again and again and again the entire drive. It’s when they’ve stopped for petrol that Harry needs to fucking _get away from this empty shell of a person._

“You stay,” he says to an already too weary Jay. “I’ll get this.”

Smiling weakly, Jay kills the engine. A gust of snow numbs his face. A welcomed change in atmosphere, solidifying what’s been done. It happens as he’s stepping out. A small, trembling hand lands on his. In seconds the ice within thaws, and his head whips around to find Louis, appearing much the same. Except, “Haz,” a petrified breath leaves his parted, chapped lips.

Stolen, Harry is extremely alert in his following movements, unable to care that he was meant to do something (he can’t remember what) returning to his previous spot. Crammed, but so fucking comfortable as his fingers lace between Louis’ delicate, cold ones. Dimly, he’s aware the doors clicked shut, and cold air announces someone’s departure.

Gazing, Harry tells tentatively, “’M here.”

“Sleepy,” the word is broken with his uneven breaths.

“Sleep.” Protective instinct urges him to shield the boy from the world, sacrifice his warmth.

“C-C-Can’t. H-H-He might c-come back.” Jarring, there is no distress to be found in his voice. Hope. There is hope. A sting spreads in his eyes. There is an empty glaze to Louis’. Except as the seconds turn to minutes his teeth begin to chatter, shoulders trembling with his chill.

“I will be here if he does,” floundering, lost in this storm, that is all Harry manages.

A trace of a smile lingers as Harry dares to grab his coat, draping the heavy leather around his frail shoulders, then carrying him forward as much as the seatbelt allows. Plastered to his side Louis slowly, so slowly, relaxes as Jay returns, and resumes their trip.

It’s when the boy’s falling victim to sleep, unable to fight the exhaustion any longer, “Don’t let ‘im shatter me again, ‘Az,” a faint whisper muffled by his shoulder. And his voice sticks to the Alpha’s bones, anguish seeping into his marrow.

Harry finds himself whispering his name even when it’s meant to be a shout.

&&

 

            A bloodcurdling shrill wakes the Omega. Drenched in sweat, with his heart pounding, Louis bolts upright to find he’s in bed. _They’re back. They’re back. They’re back._

“H-H-Harry,” Louis croaks, voice raspy with how his throat aches. Desperation wells in his chest as his hands pat around the mattress, somehow, blessedly, ending up in an unruly mop of curls.

A raspy groan soothes his frayed nerves. “Oh,” a relieved breath eases from his lungs. Needy, shivering, Louis worms until he’s burrowed in Harry’s side. A voice nags at him. No, Louis warns the darkness, drained, not right now. All the boy wants to do is escape his night terrors, his past. And…this is how.

“Haz,” the Omega presses, nosing at his bare triceps. Even in sleep the muscles jump, scorching skin stretched tight. “Hazza.” This time the Alpha, usually alert by now, rouses. He must be just as tired. “Kitten, what’s wrong? How do you feel? Are you…Are you okay?”

For some stupid reason the question triggers the floodgates, brought down as tears pool in his eyes. “Hold me,” his voice is soft with all his unshed tears. There is no hesitation–he’s carried into an embrace. Always in need of _more_ Louis breathes in his scent–it’s his favorite fragrance in the entire world. Harry’s bonding scent. As his arms tight around him, like he _knows_ Louis needs the constant pressure, Harry plants kisses in his hair. Louis lies wrapped in his embrace, every worry, every doubt, any residual terror, drifts. Like this, Louis _dreams._ In this dream the Omega chooses his path. It’s an Alpha with green eyes. _So that’s what green looks like._ It’s an Alpha to love, an Alpha to love him. To shatter him in exquisite ways.

The most beautiful disaster.

&&

            “You’re going,” Jay says sternly–like it’s the last possible word.

Furious, spiraling out of control with the crimson anger smoothing the grooves of his dysfunctional brain, Louis storms up the stairs, hissing, “Don’t count on it, _mother!_ ”

“Don’t you _dare_ take that tone with me, Louis William Tomlinson! Come back down this instant!” his Mother fumes from below. Hastily, Louis secures the locks to his bedroom door. An armor against reality. A barricade to the outside world. Cold riptides drag him down to the carpet. It’s been three tireless days since Niall’s ceremony. Since the mental meltdown that’s a distant memory in his mind. Nobody else can seem to forget. Much like Louis cannot forget the past. Traitorous his brains conjures his worst terrors in the gloom of the night. A night without any discharge has costed him–sleep deprivation sloshing in his marrow. _Who needs sleep anyway?_ Louis thinks defensively, to no one at all.

It’s jarringly quiet in his head. Any preheat symptoms have vanished with his Omegas withdrawal. Reason screams against this apathy. Louis is not sad to see the nuisance go, even knowing his return is inevitable. 

When his precious inner workings recovers Louis has the creeping suspicion that will be the day his first dreaded heat is triggered. Fresh dregs of alarm materialize in his chest.

Shivering, the boy hugs his knees to his chest, as to assure himself his lungs will not crumble or collapse. Except this doesn’t alleviate the ache that’s settled in his chest. A heavy boulder sits there, demanding his attention, demanding his downfall.

Much like his Mother, and his Alpha. In these past days the two have combined forces, effectively trapping him.

This is what I deserve, Louis thinks blankly.

This is exactly what he deserves for _trying_ even knowing _better._ There is a particular place for people like him. And it’s nowhere near those like Harry, or Niall, or Liam, or Zayn, or _society._ It’s no sudden feat. All his life, every waking moment, Louis has known this.

Every waking moment Louis is consumed with the paranoia that he’s _meant_ to be confined to a cage due to a disability he has no control over. It’s returned. It’s returned to steal more than just his vision this time.

Unable to breathe around the terror swamping him Louis hyperventilates, praying when he’s forced to face his Mother again he’ll find the courage to explain. Prays to articulate, to _press until his Mother sees reason._

Because there _is_ reason, has to be methods to his madness. Otherwise he’s fallen victim to the past. And Louis _refuses_ to be that little boy again. Refuses to be victimized ever again. _Not ever again,_ the boy chants frantically, imagining his return to the horror house. He can’t go back. Oh, God, he _can’t._

Since his adolescent visits Louis is _petrified_ of the White-House-of-Death.

Death and despair and _doom._

There is no space for happiness in hospital rooms. Nor is there space in the halls, or the crevasses of its foundation. Worse, there is no hope. Empty faith, practiced empathy.

No, no that’s _not_ allowed. More than ever before Louis needs his _hope._ Hope that’s declined without warning.

An abrupt depression, a vast pool of quicksand the boy cannot swim through. He’s struggling. Struggling to drag his sorry bum out of bed, struggling to listen, to care, to _be._

He’s _fumbling._

Of course Harry’s noticed, because Harry notices everything. It’s becomes an ugly, painful tension between them. It’s been five hours since his last contact with his Alpha, since their last brief phone call, “ _How do you expect me to feel when you won’t talk to me,”_ he’d almost snarled, and Louis definitely spat, “ _I don’t expect you to feel! You never could before! Nothing’s changed with you!”_ before promptly ending the call. And…Harry hadn’t called back.

In the hours following Louis had isolated himself to his bedroom, only leaving upon his Mother’s summoning.

Which worked to make this dooms day.

As the tears scald his cheeks, the boy stifles his sobs, lost to his personal darkness. A darkness nobody, not even Harry Styles, can understand. Because not many in this society’s danced with darkness long enough to _know_ just how much it _strips_ a person of. Unraveling, the Omega slowly crawls towards his bed, in search of his solace, Wolfy, though it’s not the stuffed animal he’s confronted with.

With a dull thud an object, much too heavy to be Wolfy, tumbles to the carpet. Without his conscious decision his hand snatches the object, discovering it’s his mobile. A furious blaze lights up his chest; the heat compelling him to destroy the evidence of his disability.

Gasping, horrified at his violence, Louis’ grip pries apart so the device falls back down to the carpet.

An apocalypse lurks in the shadows of his malfunctioning brain. Numb, Louis doesn’t realize he’s moved until Jay’s voice disrupts the earthquakes shaking his entire being. “Louis?”

“Mum,” it’s his voice–broken, lost. “Mum.”

It’s when his Mother carries him into her sacrificial arms, bleeding the warmth he’s aching to remember, that he  _does_ _._ He can see his mum rolling a rosary between his fingers, murmuring words of devotion while lying in that forsaken hospital bed. The combination of the rubbing and the gentle breaths had helped him find an ease beyond what the morphine was able to give him. Because somehow, even in the core of their curse, of her deficient son’s pain and fear, his mother believed in miracles. Still might. 

The memories clog his lungs until he’s choking on frantic breaths, “Mum, I’m so sorry… I’m s-s-so sorry.” He’s so tired of being sorry.

It’s through sheer will that the Omega does not cry. Not this time– his mental health depends on his resolve. “I…I’ll be better. I just need…I just need…”

“Harry?” It’s an accepting whisper. One that’s a slippery slope to tears. If he starts crying now, he’s not going to stop in the days and weeks ahead. And the hard inner core of him has been the only thing that’s gotten him through the past. If he loses that resolve, he has no power whatsoever against the himself.

“I’m sorry, baby, but this doesn’t change anything. We have to do this.”

This time Louis doesn’t argue.

The fight in him will come back–he knows it will–but right now all he wants is Harry. And some time alone all the same.

When at last Louis flees to the isolation of his bedroom again…he feels emptied out, lost.

&&

            It’s nearly midnight when Harry steals into Louis’ bedroom; by now darkness has oppressed the space, which, go figure. A raincloud from the brewing storm in the night sky followed him in, fixed over his head. Its lightning bolts at his ribs with each thundering heartbeat until his vision adjusts. A sorely sad nightlight is plugged beneath the window seat, one he’s not seen before. Disturbed, the Alpha allows his stare to settle on the centered bed.

An achingly tiny ball is curled up farthest from the entrance–faintly, he notes another furry form at the foot of the mattress. 

Far too copious, weary exhaustion wenches at his senses; it’s not his intention, but somehow Harry ends up out of his boots, and cautiously edging onto the mattress, muscles taunt and in perpetual contraction despite his minds slush. Mercifully, neither stir from their stupor.

Curling his damned legs as to keep from knocking their rowdy puppy from the bed, the Alpha does not relax, slowly lowering his head to stare dejectedly. Seemingly drawn the Omega becomes restless in his sleep, tossing and turning until he’s plastered to Harry’s side on his belly, the sheets tangled in his miniature legs. Somehow they’ve lost it. All he wants is to get it found.

In the dim night Louis’ features are scrunched, little _v_ puckered between his brows. Since days ago the colour to his skin has not returned, nor has the gleam to his blind eyes. It’s such an ugly reminder: under pressure precious things can break.

Please, don’t shatter him, a proper mess the Alpha screws his eyes shut and begs the obscurity for what it’s not inclined to give him. Of course not–Harry’s seized by another unexpected surge of resentment.

Christ it’s shoving him down towards the deep end. His inability to fix this–a shadow that looms over them. What normal, sane bonded Alpha would be unaffected by their Omega’s residual, reoccurring emotional trauma? Or the bastard cause of such pain. How much had that _thing_ contributed to his boy’s mental carnage?

Worse, his little love, _his_ , defends and loves and craves him in ways Harry cannot understand.

Fucking with him some more, his brain conjures an image of conjecture; a beautiful soul struggling with and against himself in every possible way, who was sordidly abused and neglected, who’s lost so much, who feels unworthy of love from his even family and his less-than perfect Alpha _…His lost boy_ …

Compassion, loss, despair, fuck it’s everywhere. A choking sense of desperation.

As to escape his personal hell Harry seeks out Louis with his stare, takes extreme care to discover any more rendering changes.

Lengthy without any trim the thin copper brown strands of Louis’ hair are beginning to curl at his sharp jawline. Without conscious permission the Alpha reaches forward, and with trembling fingers, tucks the stray strands behind his pixy ear.  It’s when his fingertips ghost along the line of Louis’ jaw that the Omega mumbles groggily, “’Azza? ‘S you?”

“Yeah, kitten. It’s…me,” his voice is soft, but there’s an ominous undercurrent to his words.

“For me?” A vulnerable anxiety replaces the sleepy note to his voice. “Came back for me?” Swamped by the intensity of the boy’s emotions Harry feels the connection like nothing else.

Up to his heart Louis’ waters rise. There is no struggle. Deadweight, sinking beneath the waters cool and clear, Harry’s relieved to drift down and disappear.

Lost, Harry sees only him–searches for the peace in his beautiful blind eyes.

Yet…there is no ravaged, war-torn land where nothing grows. There’s a soul-stealing horizon in him.

Around them, another day, another sun, goes down.

&&

            It’s only when kind fingertips leave trails of warm silent desire along his features that the Alpha breaks above the waves. In seconds it’s returned again–crowding him, the _buzz_ blares with more insight than those wide, damp eyes. “Yeah,” with how tight his throat is the words are raspy. _I made a promise to do right by you. And I will._ “Yeah, came for my little Omega ‘cause his Alpha’s missin’ him at home. He needs to be home.” At first this hadn’t been his intention, his _mission._ Except… _damn it all, there is no other way._

Louis proves so, overwhelming him with another stream of unintentional expression. The glow Harry feels radiates from the boy’s velvet skin. Faith, heated like sun, like his Louis.

“T-Thought you didn’t w-w-want me,” steadily the Omega’s voice begins to climb, an uncontrollable ramble testing the bloody beat of his heart, “t-that you forgot ‘bout me. ‘M n-not worth it, ‘Az! I’m not, I–,” As thoughtless as this panicked creature Harry takes his jaw in strong fingers to dip forward and claim his mouth. A low groan builds in his throat at Louis’ silky gasp. “So worth it. Worth everything.” Rigid, ready to mount him in the darkness and have his fucking way for fucking _once,_ “Everything about _you._ So damned _perfect.”_

The tiny broken mewl is the closest to heaven he’s ever going to be–Louis is. “Stop being _sad,_ ” he’s nearly begging, disturbing in his pathetic wreckage, “God _damn it,_ anything your heart desires I’ll _make sure you have it._ Name it, and you’ve _got it._ Just…tell me.” Because he’s so damned desperate to watch the past go up in smoke, desperate to say he’s better now than ever and his life is _okay._ It’s fucking _not._ But, Christ, some things are meant to stay in the shadows.

If this is lost…that’s it for him. The worst won’t be a broken heart. It’ll be his world splitting down the middle.

“I c-can’t,” the boy stumbles over his reedy words. “I d-unno _how,_ Haz. N-Not when you’re n-n-not with me.”

_That’s it?_

So easily _solved._

“Then I’ll stay by your side, kitten. Always. All the time, kitten.” Logic has long since disappeared. With his tongue in the Omega’s warm mouth, electrified by the taste he’s not had in three days, there is no wrong.

“That’s n-n-not _right,_ ” the boy tries breathily, _weakly._

“Feels right,” the Alpha growls softly, rocking back on his heels to pin Louis on his back before settling above him again, palms splayed on the mattress.

“Doesn’t,” the boy whimpers, the edge of desperation puncturing his lungs– _how many before they finally fucking fall apart?_

“’S what I want,” this time the growl that rips up his throat is forbidding in its timbre. But of _course,_ backwards as Louis is, the boy melts underneath him, blooming with such a slight fever it’d go unnoticed by any unbonded Alpha.

Splaying one hand over his side Harry rucks up the thin offensive material that is his ( _his)_ T-Shirt so it bunches. Skin-to-skin.

The abrupt intimacy is hellfire hot, streaking through him in hues of crimson. Another broken sound spills from the boy’s swollen flowery lips; urgent, Harry swallows this, wanting the dewy taste he’s been craving more than any sound.

In burning flames Harry’s canines lock on his bottom lip, feeling the boy’s erratic heartbeat beneath his hand. Fluttery, beautiful, _and his._ “I love you,” the breath of eternity on his lips triggers an earthquake in his skull. To escape the damage, the Alpha separates their mouths, salvaging any strength to leave this here and now. No chance. Not–,

Sharp incisors close around his ankle. Just barely missing the little demon gnawing on his flesh Harry tosses onto his back, snarling under his breath, “Fuckin’ _puppies._ Bloody things. Knew I should’ve taken an adult.” A weak, but protective growl materializes from the demon in question before she pads around the mattress (like she owns it) and curls up on Louis’ side (like _she_ owns _him_ ).  _Note to self: you have piss poor judgement._

Well, maybe not. Louis erupts in delighted giggles, tilting his head into the pillows so his face is illuminated by the artificial lighting. Like this Harry can see the crinkles by his eyes, the shine of his grin.

“Oh my God,” the boy gasps around little trills, “What is going on? What’ve you done to put her out so badly?”

A slow, bitter smile curves his mouth. “Let you love me.”

A troubled look clouds his pretty features before, hesitantly, “What is so very wrong with that?”

“Too much,” he says quietly as his smile dissolves. Like the boy could possibly see this change Harry looks away, stares at the ceiling with a spiteful hatred it’s done nothing to deserve. If glaring at yourself without a mirror were possible, Harry would spare it the trauma.

Silence swarms between them, suffocates him. It’s too many heartbeats before Louis breathes with a gravity that chills him, “Sometimes, I want to disappear.” Words lost, the Alpha struggles to get his brain to _work,_ but Louis carries on, “Not in the sense that I don’t want to be around, but I want to go places. Mad, magical places. Where I can feel whatever I can’t see, _understand it._ Understand…me. I want to go where I can figure it out. _Find what I didn’t know I was even looking for.”_  

And oh Christ in his moment there’s an entire galaxy in those glazed like newly cut glass eyes. “Find what?”

“Me.”

SSS

            “Louis,” the voice in question is vaguely detectible to his right mind. “Louis?” Again the issue gnaws at him: Louis doesn’t feel quite in his right mind. Hasn’t in days. Or perhaps this has been imminent; gathering for far longer than anyone could’ve predicted–perhaps his minds been ticking, day by day, minute by minute, towards mental corrosion. “C’mon, love,” the slight tremor to his visitors voice is the trigger (oh God is has Louis become trigger-happy).

With more effort than should be necessary the boy resurfaces only to find his voice. “Yes?” the mere sound, robotic and detached, mirrors how immune he’s becoming. Inwardly, Louis cringes; otherwise there’s nothing, nothing, and more _nothing._

An eternity seems to strain before an unsteady, surely ink-stained (black, like his vision, is the useless bit of information Louis manages) hand envelopes his cold, steady one. It’s warm, the gentle touch of an Omega. “I’m here, love. We’re here. We’re all…here.” Even though his voice says maybe they don’t want to be _here_ anymore. Louis doesn’t either.

“Am I here?” The boy has to make sure.

“You’re here.” There is no passionate blaze to the words, nor any lie of omission. Absolutely no extreme emotional tie from his particular Omega–this must be the reason behind this entire episode. Just the certainty, the _faith,_ is all Louis’ needed to hear, to _believe._

Pride abandons him. Too easily the Omega deflates, dissolving into soundless tears and latching onto the slender boy with a force he couldn’t muster only minutes ago. An unlikely connection strings them together as slim arms circle his waist in return. An artist bleeds colour into him.

“Don’t t-t-tell him…Please, don’t,” Louis hiccups into the Omega’s gaunt shoulders. _Please, don’t tell him I’m like this._

A different, disembodied voice responds before Harry’s best friend can: _it’s not like he doesn’t already know._

 _Leave me alone._ Louis bites his tongue to keep from saying so aloud.

“I promise this stays between us until _you_ say otherwise.” With his entire fragmented being Louis _believes_ him, naive or not.

Silence settles until it’s time enough that Louis musters the strength to ease out of the embrace his Omega craves so badly.

“Does H know I’m here?”

Helpless, _small,_ the boy only shakes his head in response, all the while scrubbing his heated, sticky cheeks. “I c-can’t…I can’t…” _I can’t keep hurting him._

“Hey,” Zayn’s voice is the softest Louis’ heard, and oh God his Omega basks in the short-lived respite. “Don’t. Don’t do that. Don’t worry about Styles. You’ll only go _mad._ In fact, I think that’s exactly what you _need._ A _break–a Harry-Getaway.”_

A stuffy giggle sprouts within his sore lungs. Again that same sad, tired something that keeps him up all night creeps into the sound as Louis realises… _that’s exactly what he wants_ (despite his Omegas ignored protests). He wants to break  _away away away_ from _this sad story._

Louis’ moment mirth dissolves. “No,” he mumbles, pathetically. “I doubt he’ll ever allow it. He’s scared, Z. So, so scared someone’s going to break me.”  _So scared he’s going to break us,_ his Omega corrects softly, sadly.

“Louis.” Of course Zayn brings _fond_ and _exasperation_ together with just his name. “Who cares? It hardly matters what Harry _allows._ You’re not just an Omega, Louis. You’re a _person._ Listen, mate,” right now the other Omega sounds so _wise,_ and Louis _listens,_ “Sometimes it’s better to be bad.” It’s not the sage advice Louis is expecting.

 _Sometimes it’s better to be bad,_ Louis repeats slowly, inwardly. Once, twice, on replay those very words file through his mind until Louis’ eyes are saucer-like in his curiosity. Except… “That’s not true! Omegas are supposed to be–,” 

“Good?” It’s taunting. “Love, that’s some straight _shit._ You are obviously not up-to-date on Omega movements. Since I’m such a good citizen I’ll take some time to teach you the basics on our way to this spot I know. I’ll just let Harry know I’ll be havin’ you this morning–,”

“But school…” the Omega protests lamely, just to say he _did_ when he has no choice but to face his Alpha’s inevitable catastrophe.

“They won’t miss us,” Zayn murmurs so confidently Louis almost agrees (even knowing Tabitha or one of the other aids will check in with Jay) before tossing an arm around Louis’ shoulders and helping him stand on weak knees.

Hesitantly, Louis wraps an arm around Zayn’s waist to lean into his support, and wholeheartedly agree, “You’re right. They w-won’t even notice we’re gone...”

Only when they’ve left in speed with the engines roar and the winds wail does Louis allow himself to smile. 

&&

            Timeless, in this trance, Louis _forgets;_ distraction numbs the ache that’s taken refuge in his chest. Gentle, the air comes and goes, painless without his body’s resistance. It’s the closest to _Louis_ he’s felt since Niall’s ceremony, and oh God does this _help._ All the sad, tired something’s sigh in blatant relief as Louis’ thoughts are replaced by Zayn’s narrative, probably because, like Louis, the story revolves around Harry Styles. _“_ So I said, _mate, fuck that, show me the receipts._ Of course this little prat pulls his own picture out of his own fuckin’ wallet, and our little Hazza was once indeed blonde. So, I caved, H can, by all accounts, rock the blonde curls.”  Taken, Zayn laughs softly, though Louis only frowns, unable to form any proper response, throat too full of frustration. It’s just…there are only blanks-and-brokens with Louis’ every attempt to visualize his Alpha’s appearance.

Desperation sets fire to his hands; the searing sting spreads from his palms to the very tips of his fingers. Denial shrieks against even the _idea_ ; _could never forget Alpha, never want to forget…_ It’s true–layering his emotions with a cloak of bittersweet longing.

“And for this reason, my fellow fiend, the lads and I expect little blond haired pups from the both of you.” Stunned, Louis sputters as Zayn becomes suspended in giggles, so open and carefree, the sightless boy can’t help but _fond._ “O, gross,” Louis feigns disgust even as the longing lances through him anew.

Heat spreads high on the Omega’s cheekbones when Zayn barks, endlessly amused, “Y’know a _good_ Omega is meant to be mated by–,”

“Eighteen, and bedded with the purpose of pups that same night,” Louis recites mechanically. This isn’t exactly novel information. Social prospects are enforced, and ingrained in every mind, even the ‘impaired’ must be accounted for.

Zayn only manages an appreciative noise before Louis balances his teacup between both palms. The warmth soothes his fingers’ achy tremble as the steam wafts in warning. “Z,” Louis blurts softly, without reason, “W-What happened to Harry’s mum?”

A heartbeat stutters on in which guilt stabs at him, though, before its intensified Zayn says in an achingly small voice, “She left.”

“I-I know…I’ve heard t-that much.” Somehow Louis’ voice is _tinier,_ “I just…don’t…understand. Why? When? What happened?” _How?_ An angry, betrayed voice blares against the Mother that could just _walk away,_ just _leave_ her vulnerable pup to the influence of his Council-pledged Father?

Just like He did–only leaving irrevocable damage behind. On its own accord Louis’ mental guard rematerializes against any pain the reminder rouses. Louis hates that this is LouisandHarry have in common. Yet…he does nothing but accept it.

In these moments, Zayn effectively shuts the conversation down, “Not my story to tell, Louis.” Of course Louis knows this. This story belongs to Harry, should be Harry’s to tell.

 _Stop. Stop, Louis, stop…_ Just…he _can’t._ “Did he cry?” Louis whispers with more bravery than sense. As soon as the question materializes Louis knows the answer.

“No.” Knowing so doesn’t ease the dismay, nor does the flat, throaty voice Louis stands absolutely no chance against. Conditioned, the boy’s heart flutters wildly as Harry’s presence eats up any personal space. “’Azza…What…W-What are.”

“What am I doin’ here?” the anger in Harry’s voice is barely contained. “Actually this is all coincidence. I hadn’t even known…I’m drawn to you, little Omega. Reckon I unconsciously found my way back to you.” Like there is nothing wrong between them Louis only senses the Alpha’s stare, on him, _for him._

“Liar,” Louis embraces the Alpha’s fury, inspired by his Omega’s zealous acceptance (whore, he thinks in retaliation, grudgingly). “Not one tiny tear?” the boy presses softly, ever-the-opportunist.

“Hm,” Harry laughs, leaning forward enough that Louis feels the purr as he hears it. Shiver ride up his spine, scattered breaths ceasing. “Listen, and listen well, kitten. I won’t repeat myself again. Worthy Alphas _do not cry.”_ Alpha coats Harry’s voice, conquering Louis’ sensitive nerves. A sad, sorry sound forms low in his throat; but _no,_ Louis refuses to be reduced to just what society claims he is; an irreparable and dependent creature. 

In his _startled state_ , his grip on his teacup is lost. Regret sweeps through him as the glass shatters clamorously on impact (it’s like him now).

There is no pause; in nanoseconds Harry’s actions become frenzied. Despite the weight, Louis’ seat (or rather: Harry) carries him measures away from the slight hazard-zone. Even so Louis isn’t spared the wet stains and patches marring his clothes.

A natural occurrence, his Alpha’s presence elicits more attention than necessary. Questions are tossed. Demands thrown.

“See you idiots bright and early Monday morning–hopefully.” Any satisfaction Louis concocted vanishes upon Zayn’s muttered departure. _Alone…_ the idea swamps the Omega in telling heat. _Alone, with Alpha._

An unbidden thrill lances through his veins. It’s just too much, all the way around. Especially right now, like this, with Harry’s hands bound to his wrists, with Harry in control, guiding (always guiding) him despite his graceless gait.

Composed, the Alpha swiftly removes them from the scene. Too soon the noise drifts, and then it’s just them. LouisandHarry.

Still, the boy stumbles on, struggling to keep up until Harry (finally) decides to regain control. Anticipating this Louis only gasps, plaint in his Alpha’s hold, bound by trust.

With more care than force Harry ushers him against a wall Louis couldn’t tell existed, cups his face in both long-fingered hands. Effectively exposing his traitorous eyes. “Don’t be frightened of me, little one…”

“’M not,” the Omega’s voice is faint with anxiety, anticipation.

“Are you sure?” The eerie edge to Harry’s voice, the tense power, has Louis’ heart turning itself inside out.

_I don’t want to be afraid…I’m trying to stop._

“Absolutely positive,” Louis lies.

&&

            And there it is: their _closing._ It’s _reoccurring,_ this withdrawal, and Harry’s given up on trying to make sense of anything between them. In retaliation to the emotional response Louis’ deception triggers the Alpha’s mental shutters draw shut, wiping his emotional slate clean.

Even so his exhale is exhaustion manifest. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m sure you’re trying not to be.” Drained, _damned,_ the Alpha’s arms fall to his sides, and his hands ball into white-knuckled fists. Again, the _buzz_ proves proper as Louis’ pretty features contort with guilt, resignation ebbing his already sightless stare.

“I’m sorry,” the boy sounds like whatever it is between them has robbed him of breath as well.

“Me too,” Harry mutters, because _what the fuck else is new?_ It’s _always present,_ all around them, dread’s become an intangible fence made of mental barbed-wire. There is no balance, either too much or too little.

At least for Harry. Louis…not so much. The tiny, delicate Omega’s emotional grid is a tangled mess, strips of desolation and fear bound in ropes of sadness. Harry _knows_ these two, distant weeks Louis’ been through the wringer, and he’s too close to mental extremis, stretched beyond his limit and then some…but at the core, at the center, at the heart of him…love burns. Love burns so damn deeply.

Christ, it’s really all Harry _has_ anymore, because Louis’ left him to this; there, but unresponsive and detached.

A boulder settles heavy on his chest, straining his ribs. “I’m,” the Alpha clears his throat, then swallows, hard, “Let’s…Let’s get you back to yours. Yeah, let’s do…that.” How eloquent.

Victim to his obsession the Alpha cannot divert his stare, and _fuck_ is he out of his depth when panic electrifies the Omega’s depthless ocean-coloured eyes. “No,” Louis’s voice hitches and breaks. “Y-You promised. You promised me.”

Well, _fuck._

On instinct the Alpha reacts, snaking both arms round the slim of the Louis’ waist, melding them. “Hush, baby. Breathe,” Harry orders raggedly, burying his nose in the boy’s feathery hair. “We won’t be staying. Just fetching your things. Afterwards…” Gentle, Harry tucks any stray strands of silky hair behind the boy’s pixy ear. “Afterwards, we’re going…home.” _Way to sound convincing, Styles._

Like this Louis clings to him, on his very tiptoes–any struggle melts from his soft, compact figure. “Promise me. One last time,” the boy implores wistfully.

“I promise you,” his voice is soft, but icy and wary.

A sigh barrels free of Louis’ mouth, the sound so sweetly relieved. And…that’s…really _it._ Docile, so easily taken, Louis says nothing, does nothing, to stop Harry from handling his weight (Christ, he’s lost so _much_ in so little time). It’s so fragile, the woven trust, that he doesn’t dare disrupt the silence. Instead, Harry carries them through the vacated streets only to stop where his car is parked, rather sloppily in his prior haste.

Here, on the wrong side of the tracks, the bloody thing stands out. Much like its owner, the glossy vehicle does not belong, and surely he’ not the only one to notice.

Paranoia, ugly and cruel, creeps into the fracture and fissures of his mind. He’s destined for destruction. One day, he is going to step straight into the line of Council fire. A calling; one day some nasty bastard is going to realize this lovely, easily-ended creature in his arm is their key to success, his _ruin._

It’s a risk every Council Alpha must endure. 

Countless time it’s transpired–tragedies the media couldn’t broadcast, the public couldn’t press. Christ, he _is_ Desmond Styles’ son. And if the old bastard’s cursed even his DNA then something has to give.

Tension grasps Harry’s shoulders. Crimson paints his vision, the points of his canines visible, white and menacing. There is no direct target; nothing worthy of his efforts. By now the Alpha doesn’t _care_ to panic over his own mental decay, but, again, he’s knee-deep in self-pity. And the shit is like sludge, clingy and disgusting.

“’Az,” a tiny, sleepy interruption, welcomed as warm, flowery lips tease his ticking jaw.

Ah, hell, now is _not_ the fuckin’ time to contemplate life. With one hand the Alpha fishes the keys from his pocket, shows the passenger side out of the way, and unhooks Louis’ already loose limbs ( _maybe he’d been the one clinging–of course)._  Through easy movements Harry helps the groggy, sleep-addled Omega in, and tests the safety until it’s to his standards.

Possessed, the Alpha hesitates to join Louis in the car, opting to crouch and examine the underbelly to the best of his ability with the dim, murky lighting instead.

Of course it’s all in his fucking head. Again, there is nothing… _Not this time,_ it’s his Alpha’s spite, probably the source of this paranoid parasite infesting his brain.

A chill crawl’s up his spine, sucking the warmth from his body. Shoved from his spiral, Harry breathes slowly through his nose, and, only moments-too-late, sinks into the driver’s seat.

A low purr announces the engine’s revival.

“Are you okay?” _Doesn’t matter,_ the Alpha thinks, emptied of excuses.

Like cement setting solid, Harry stiffens. “Steady.” Correction: _un-fucking-stable._

It’s okay when there is no response, because Harry’s learnt not to expect them. (He doesn’t deserve any).

A (shit) habit, the Alpha pushes the speed limit, rerouting mentally because he’s above traffic, like all else. Without reason a dainty hand flutters between them to rest on his arm. It’s warm, and hesitant, but it’s _his touch._ And with one touch the boy conveys comfort and warmth and empathy, so simply reducing his agitation, unscrambling his mind.

When the boy’s hand sweeps down the length of his arm the Alpha regrets the sleeved shirt. “Haz?” the sound of his voice does something the thirty-degree ambient air temperature _can’t._ Warmth spreads out from his chest, beating back the numb and the cold, suffusing him with life. Trembling, the Omega’s hand settles over his right hand, clutching the wheel. “I’m so sorry.”

Rather than running the car into an unsuspecting tree the Alpha engulfs the tiny hand seeking his own. As their palms meet Harry’s robbed, mugged, burgled, broken and entered. Words fail him, and all he can do is squeeze his hand gently.

It’s only when Louis’ curled up in sleep, lashes lowered to shield his eyes, that Harry leans in to plant lingering kisses along his knuckles. He mumbles incoherently into his skin, the most moving revelation, “ _…I’ll cry when you leave me.”_

&&

           

An all-too-deprived, all-too-familiar energy steals Louis’ slumber. Indolently, the reason behind his clarity comes to: his neuropathways are like those cheap strands of Christmas lights he remembers mum’s so against, flickering randomly, then shorting out. Sounds register and disintegrate and reappear. Any languid ease abandons his body, from tense to twitchy. There is only touch _._ An emptiness, a cavity, of the connection Louis so devoutly (with no choice) lives by. In this state touch is all Louis _has; doesn’t_ have.

A dancing flame all his own Louis only shivers. A wildfire rages across the dry grass his insides have become.

Sensitive _, way too sensitive._

Scared, too. Of more than just _this_. Of the inescapable reality that’s _been_ upon him.

When when when will he _stop_ being so _afraid?_

Darkness ceased to be an abstract concept so long ago. There is nothing _beyond, above, below._ It just _is._

Louis isn’t alone in his inability to accept this, Darkness. Society refuses to.

 _How how how_ is he meant to accept what nobody else _can (will)?_

It’s not possible, is the thing. Because this Darkness, it’s _his._ (It will only ever be _his_. It will stay _his_.)

And with the entirety of his being Louis knows Darkness is _not_ something to be dwelled on; not _meant_ to be _more._ Except, to him, _for_ him, Darkness _is_ more. A state of being _._

Acceptance seeps from the Omega’s pores, coating his skin as his brain fires useless, ignored signals. Words begin to march through his mind, coming from someplace Louis doesn’t recognize; going... _somewhere,_ beyond.

Revelation comes to him in the midst: _I was meant to be found._

_I was meant to be found._

_I was meant…to be more than this, than Darkness._

“I’m not Darkness,” his words are a calm, gentle confession.

“What,” raspy, uneven, the Alpha’s voice scatters his thoughts; _never again will Darkness use me as its canvas for its artistry._

_I was meant to be found–I was meant to be more than Darkness’ poetic injustice._

“What. Did. You. Say.” Harry’s voice is an unforeseen force. One Louis willingly submits to.

“’S not me,” the boy’s voice is breathy, nowhere near an easy grace, but close enough. “’S not who I am. It’s not…Louis. ‘M not…Darkness.”

“No,” the infinite tenderness, the absolute conviction in the Alpha’s voice emboldens him, “You’re so much more than Darkness.” From this beautiful, alienated Alpha, those words are… _everything;_ manna from heaven. So badly Louis wants to tell him; to tell his every thought, his every reason, his every emotion…but, his voice is lost. So lost, like his Omega’s been (bawling like the little pup he’s doomed to stay in the dingiest ravine of his mind).

A live wire, Louis drapes his arm across his face to conceal the searing tears swimming in his eyes.

“Don’t cry…”

To suppress the urge, the Omega takes too many deep breaths, but his throat is arid and uncomfortable from his unshed tears and sobs.  “’M…’M…”

“Silly?”

“Sorry.” Restrained, the tears refuse him, until Louis’ chest is heaving with silent sobs.

“No. You’re not. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“ _There is,_ Haz. I-I-I… _hurt you_.” A chilling truth echoes in the words as Louis straightens fitfully, revealing his teary, burning eyes. “Please, please, don’t…leave me.” It always comes right back to this–God, he doesn’t know what it is with Harry that make him act like this. “I d-didn’t mean to, I–,”

“Christsakes, Louis, _enough.”_ An aggression the boy’s not yet acquainted with flares to life in the fierce resonance. Helpless to his Alpha’s disapproval, the boy quiets–his own unspoken words leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. “Calm down.” Silence strains, until, “Are you ready to listen?”

Paralyzed by the dominant Alpha lurking in the octaves of his voice Louis can only blink owlishly. Awestruck, his Omega’s senses sing, beckoning whatever animal Harry’s leashed to an abusive extent; begging to have his _Meant_ unearthed. Fiery, calling to him on elemental levels, Harry’s scent is potent, amplified by Louis’ remnants. A lethal combination–heady cologne, evergreen, midnights garden in bloom, rosy and–, “Yes or no?” the Alpha prompts impatiently enough that Louis’ cheeks heat. 

“Yes,” is the breathy admission that escapes his parted lips, then, because he’s _not_ an errant pup, “’M not a child.”

“Well, stop acting like one.”

It’s like Louis’ been slapped, and his Omega has been merely chastised. “I’m a child because I’m _sorry_ for…for…” Louis struggles to conceal his hurt.                                                                                        

“For what? _Hurting me?_ Oh, kitten,” bleakly the Alpha chuckles, and Louis wishes he were heavy enough an anchor to hold Harry steady against any contempt waves. “Spare me. I’m _not_ going to take the piss and fall apart when _you’re_ struggling. You wanted faith and patience, and God damn it I _have both_ for you. I will _always_ have both. So, don’t cry to me.” Abruptly Harry’s voice wilts, “I don’t want to do this right now, kitten. We both know we lost it somehow. Let’s just…get it found, yeah? Let’s _find it._ We’ll remember what to do when we’re where we need to be. It’s time to make it happen.” Frenzied, the Omega nods, needing so badly to be back to LouisandHarry.

“I don’t want to let you go, but it’s not in my control. In less than ten days ‘m going to _have_ to let you go, Lou. Please, understand that.” Louis _can’t–_ panic seizes his lungs, but, before his airways constrict, “I _smell_ it. You. I sense it. You’re nearly there.” Heat, remains unsaid. “I just…I know all about you, and everything I see is beautiful. Everything I see is mine. And if I can’t have, then you do the taking. If only before then. Have all of me, part of me, a small piece, whatever you want. Just please, _have something,”_ the ache in his voice is the kind normally associated with funerals.

Louis speaks without wanting to, “Don’t you fear pain?”

“At this point…all I fear is losing you.”

Louis’ heart is in his mouth, that’s his only explanation. “I don’t think that’s possible anymore, Haz. We’ve always had each other. Isn’t that what…what those Council scriptures are on about? Soulmates.” When the Alpha remains silent, Louis breathes, with a soulful intensity his heart mirrors, “We were meant to be, Alpha, we didn’t just happen.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Harry’s voice is faint, “I want to do this right, Louis. All I ask is you _let me._ For us. LouisandHarry.” _LouisandHarry,_ the boy’s memory comes to life in swift, dizzying spells of sound and sensation, until his heart is brimming again, and his face transforms into an enchanted smile. “Make me,” the boy is breathless as the nest of butterflies that have taken residency in his belly stir, all panicky and excited.

“I can do that.” It’s seriously brooding, and Louis bites his lip against an entirely too smitten smile, “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“How serious?”

“Serious.”

“Sounds…serious.” More than almost anything else Louis _loves_ the sound that follows. A sound worth more than light. Smooth and boyish Harry’s laugh is infectious, and Louis can’t help but toss his head in the Alpha’s direction, encouraging what he’s so badly missed with his own small, nervous, disbelieving giggles. It’s unexpected, the Alpha’s hand encompassing his own trembling one, but it’s the sweetest surprise. Louis’ skin hums, and his lashes flutter without permission because, _I still remember this touch. I’m still me…_

“I’m not going to ever get over you,” the confidence to his voice is dazzling; relief, triumph, boyish delight combined into one enchanting statement, able to mend the most shattered of hearts. “I only ever want to take care of you.”

“Then why aren’t I home?”

“Well, technically, you _are_ home. Yours, I mean.” Hearing this Louis scrunches his face in distaste, though Harry only explains, “We’ve been parked out front a while. You fell asleep on the way, and I…I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

 _Ah, jeez._ Louis is melting. He really is. A smile softens his lips as the Omega muses, “I have some stuff already packed. Just have to finish up, bag is upstairs on the bed.”

Three times the Alpha strokes his knuckles before murmuring sullenly, “I don’t know why you can’t just wear my clothes for the weekend.” Already, Louis knows Harry will find a way to make this happen whether Louis likes it or not. As it happens Louis quite likes it–not that he’d ever tell Harry directly.

“There’s still Lilac,” Louis mentions pointedly.

“Ah,” the Alpha acquiesces indifferently, “Right, the mutt.”

“Hey!” the boy chides, brows knitted. “Don’t shame our pup like that!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Miserably Louis fails to maintain his serious expression, it’s replaced by a ridiculous grin of wonder. “ _Royal_ mutt.”

“And puppy chow,” the Omega notes idly, mentally designing their trip inside to be quick as possible. “Here’s the plan.” Determination claims him. “I’ll grab Lilac, and the puppy bag. You’re in charge of the luggage. Make sure my toothbrush is in there.”

“God _forbid_ Louis forget his toothbrush,” slow, sticky like molasses, his voice drips.

“Haz! This is serious _!”_ It’s whiny, and Louis doesn’t care, jutting his bottom lip in a petulant pout.

“I know, but…we’ll be separated.”

“That’s the point,” to be bratty, Louis flutters his lashes, only to grin guiltily when Harry winces. “I’ll be okay, Alpha, you can let go now.” Reluctant as Louis, the Alpha’s grasp only tightens, and he’s torn between the desire to keep it like _this,_ and _go home._ “Five minutes. Whatever is not out the door by then gets left behind.”

“Including me?” Louis teases softly.

“I value punctuality. Test me.” Before the Omega can formulate an answer as cutting Harry is in action. Louis can’t miss the warmth too much as Harry’s rounded the vehicle in record time. Without the barrier, an arctic draft intrudes the interior, disbanding Louis’ out-of-body illusion. An agonizing heat strips his veins of blood; replacing his essence with fire.

A cold sweat forms along his skin, shivers edge up his spine. In charge Harry leans in, blocking Louis’ only respite, but twining their fingers to carry him away from their odd sanctuary. With blood like gasoline the fire thrives despite the frigid temperature, and vertigo spirals through him. Louis’ breaths tremble as nausea churns in his tummy. This is what Hell must feel like.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the Alpha’s voice comes softly even over the howling wind. “What’s wrong?”

“Dunno,” Louis says, sincere tension threading through his response. “Feels so ‘eavy, hot.” A bomb ticks in his chest–it might just be his heart. Louis can’t be bothered to unravel that mystery.

“’S only ten degrees, kitten, that’s impossible.” Logic, and sense, tell the same as slushy snow sinks beneath his feet and saturates in his already damp (sweat) hair. “Should I carry you? It’s freezing, and those shoes can hardly stand against the snow. I don’t want you losing any toes. Jay might skin me. You chose this outfit? Or did the other fool forget its still winter?”

Too drained to keep up with Harry’s run-on’s, Louis simply settles on, “Walk. I’ll walk. B-B-But,” seems the cold is catching up to him in ways the Omega is numb to by now, only able to feel _fire fire fire_ as his teeth begin to chatter noisily, “I’d r-rather die of hypothermia than b-b-burn t-to death.”

A husky laugh is all Louis’ senses absorb before the entire world tilts on its axis, and his hands are bare of the only bearable warmth. Harry’s. A furnace all his own Harry’s body heat swamps him, one arm a resilient band around his waist, the other hooked underneath his thighs. There's a feeble tug low in his tummy, where the heat's been building.  _No more. No more._ “Lemme go. You’re so hot, ‘s so hot. T-T-Too hot.”

A hand covers the span of his sheen forehead. “ _You’re_ hot, pup. I think you have a fever.”

“According to Dr. Styles,” madly, giggles break out of his dry mouth, “He’s not a very reputable source.”

“Hush, you.” It’s said with more concern than command as the two pause. Vaguely, Louis hears the entrance’s locks coming apart (how Harry got a key, he won’t ask). Curled up like this the Omega’s ear is tight to Harry’s chest, and the steady, strong drum of his heart distracts him, soothes him.

It’s exactly seven (now his lucky number) heartbeats before they step inside, and, for twenty more, the Alpha clutches him, so tight his ribs ache. It’s an ache Louis wants to keep, especially when, at eighty, the fever breaks. Announcing its retreat, shudders wreck up his spine until Louis is nosing, back-and-forth, back-and-forth, at Harry’s shoulder. “There we are,” Harry praises until Louis nips at the thick material of his top in retaliation, albeit gently. “Good boy. Stay with me a little while more.” Louis promises to over and over and over. “Can you stand?” _I can try._

“’Course,” the Omega mumbles pretentiously. Obviously, it’s not very believable as the Alpha presses in wary amusement, “Are you sure?”

“Harold, c’mon. We’re wastin’ precious time.” Speaking of precious, Louis only now notices the little, excited whines, from his very precious pet. On his feet Louis sways, catching his breath and balance before easing out of Harry’s support, casting the tall, lanky Alpha a sheepishly appreciative smile. 

As soon as Harry’s left him to tend to Lilac the change is eerie; it’s too empty, _quiet._

Antsy, Louis focuses on the task at hand–the puppy at his feet, pawing at the thin, torn-up material of his trousers. “Hi, princess,” the Omega greets, disrupting the disturbing silence, leaning down to grasp his puppy underneath her rowdy forelegs, hefting (she’s gained weight since weeks ago–outgrowing him already). Around whines Lilac licks wetly at his hands. 

Louis stops in the entryway, abruptly too tired to keep up. It’s against plan, though, and the instant he’s still, his mind shifts, weighing towards torment. No. Not again. Dragging his feet Louis shuffles into the kitchen, lowering Lilac to the tile, and leaning against the counter with purpose. One: to catch his breath, two: to hunt his thoughts, Jay had told him where to find Lilac’s necessities, but, with his mind darting every-which-way it’s difficult. But it’s there.

With an altogether relieved sigh Louis makes his way to the right of the island, then kneels at before the right cabinet. A thick, packed bag is what Louis’ seeking hands come into contact with. After some exertion (meaning Louis drags the thing out and pinches repeatedly) Louis boasts, “Aha,” and leans backwards until his shoulders are cozied up to the islands wall. Figuring Harry will know just how much is needed, the boy smiles sleepy. _Mission accomplished._ Somewhat.

Against the ache throbbing at his temples Louis’ droopy lids at last shut. And he’s so sleepy, wants to drag his sorry bum up to bed, but it’s too late, he’s already succumbing to a restorative stupor. A gentle presence, Lilac crawls into his lap, where she stills.

 _In and out in and out in and out_ Louis’ senses come and go.

Footsteps echo from the bare floors and bounce along the ornamented walls, oddly comforting. It’s not the last Louis hears. But, “Times up,” _is._

&&       

Louis is jostled awake as Harry lifts him in his able arms. As to stay asleep the Omega returns the embrace sluggishly, binding them with his limbs. Despite Harry’s swift stride, the blistering cold nips at his fingertips, and the flurries of frost numbs his cheeks. It’s without affect; it’s like the Alpha is immune, emanating the most distinct electric heat.  And all Louis wants is to be held in his beating heart. Only Harry’s fire saves him from the storm.

Clinging, the boy buries his face in the slope of Harry’s exposed throat. “H-Home?”

“Home.” It’s the confirmation Louis needs. A welcome warmth blooms in the Omega’s frantic heart. It’s joy–pure, haunting joy. Revived, Louis echoes breathily, “Home?”

“Home.” Amusement colours Harry’s voice; brazen as he is, “And then, with any luck, bed.”

“Bedtime for me,” Louis approves breathlessly, trying so hard to resist the desire surging through his already damaged veins.

“There’s something I want to do first.” An almost childish excitement overwhelms his tone, eclipsing anything else. Louis really means to ruin the surprise, but... “What is it with you and surprises?”

“I like to keep you on your toes,” the Alpha says slyly.

Ignoring his Omega’s protests, Louis eases backwards to pin Harry with an entirely unimpressed expression. “Is that so?”

“So,” it’s whispered with a gravity the boy can’t grasp–doesn’t care to when Harry dips forward to nose at his temple. So close the Omega huddles as the proximity, blessed and _theirs,_ sends shivers down his spine. With every breath a melting glow spreads like warm honey through his veins. “I just…I don’t gamble like I used to, Louis, but I still do things I shouldn’t. This…isn’t one of them. Can’t be. And I want you to see the same.”

Soundly, even with his heart wanting _out out out_ of his ribs, the Omega nods, trusting Harry to know what to do, to bring them _better._ And trusting _himself_ to _let it be,_ to stay.

Every breath the Alpha has…is for him; one by one they gentle along his fragile skin, setting fire to his already soupy insides.  Like this Louis does not feel like a mere silhouette, a _shadow._ In every way the boy feels _light_ –like every flaw, every blank space, every lost, missing, bit of his psyche has been mended, sewn by Harry’s pale imprints.

In need, the boy tries to connect with his Omega; his frail, torn-by-truth Omega. _This is our Alpha,_ Louis reassures weakly, inwardly reaching out to what’s so badly beaten.

Frantic for forgiveness of self, Louis promises promises promises to tear them from the shade, promises promises promises to whisper the secrets of his heart.

“Master Styles,” an unfamiliar, heavily accented voice calls over the violent winds; startling him enough that Louis shrinks into his Alpha’s chest. “Master Louis,” No-Name adds, in staggered awe( _huh?_ ) as Harry ascends the stairway leading up to the entrance.  No-Name’s tone is the wrong on. Deep in his throat Harry snarls, and the ominous sound vibrates between their bodies, rattles his already sensitive eardrums. Funny, if he’d heard that sound from anyone else he would be terrified.

Coming from him, _surrounded by him_ , Louis is safe, treasured… _madly_ , _and hopelessly in love._

“Until I say otherwise stay out of my sight. And pass that along. I’m not to be disturbed.” It’s not his Harry speaking. It’s his Council.

“Yes, of course, Sir,” the male’s voice quivers, and Louis almost feels bad (God, it’s too easy to forget how influential Harry Styles is even in _name)_ though he’s distracted when Harry asks tightly, “Has Lilac been seen to?”

“Yes, Sir. We’ve arranged for the pet’s stay as instructed. They’re seeing to her as we speak.”

Shyly, Louis mumbles into Harry’s throat, “She doesn’t like to be alone, Hazza.”

“Make sure she’s thoroughly entertained until I come to collect her.” Unaccustomed to this autocratic, aloof Alpha, the Omega wants to run like mad…It’s just too much to keep up with when Louis needs _his_ Harry–who’s all mercurial, intricate facets. It’s his Harry even so; decisive, _sure,_ Harry does not miss a single beat, shouldering past No-Name to carry them through the entrance.

All at once Louis’ drifting in a dream–in the short walk (Harry truly does have long legs) his discordant thoughts and feelings ebb and flow, transforming his emotional grids. This is where the Omega wants to _stay._ Alone, with Alpha. Blanketed in warmth Louis’ lids droop, and, like he’s not slept enough today, his mouth rounds in a yawn.

“Am I boring you, little one?” Harry’s tone is sardonic.

“You always do,” Louis says sweetly, so sure his eyes are full of the smiles he’s so against.

“Oh, do I?” the Alpha growls, the edge to the sound is playful. “Well, that’s hardly fair, as you so dutifully entertain me.” 

“I know,” the boy sighs oh-so-sadly. “I’m so mistreated. Used!”

Without warning Harry’s untangling his limbs; with every firm pry Louis resists, batting at him, “No! No! No!”

“Yes. Yes. _Yes.”_ Louis’ breaths are labored by the time Harry’s set him down. “All I ever want to hear from you is _yes.”_ No distance is allowed, Louis is drawn into Harry, whose hands cradle his own. He doesn’t know why his heart is losing its mind. But it is. It really is. “Yes, Alpha.”

Swiftly, the boy is spun until his back is to Harry’s long long long torso and Harry’s mouth teases the curve of his ear. “Christ. Sweet boy.”  Louis’ lungs are such _liars,_ pretending they can’t expand to breathe at his expense, but his smile is bigger than those full moons he’d seen as a child, and his mind is confused by how _happy_ those two words make his heart and his body and especially his Omega. 

“Breathe, baby,” the Alpha presses until Louis’ dragging hasty breaths though his parted lips.

“Your fault.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do!” Louis’ voice is pitchy and petulant as Harry’s arm snakes around his waist. “Just can’t help it, Louis. I want the air that you breathe.” In every way Louis wants to breathe _him._ Doesn’t say so.

“’S okay, you don’t have to tell me, I already know.”

“You’re so _arrogant_.”

“And I owe it all to _you,_ kitten,” the Alpha claims, and Louis only snorts, like the implication doesn’t drive his heart wild. “But you already know, don’t you, kitten?”

As to seem uninterested, Louis murmurs, proud that his voice does not shake, “Styles, shut up and surprise me before I fall asleep again. You’re a human ambien, I swear.”

“Everyone _does_ want to sleep with me.” There is no modesty, not that Louis expects any by now. It’s no secret–Harry Styles mesmerizes any creature with two functioning eyes. And, apparently, even those without.  Shy, Louis chews on his bottom lip, mirroring Harry’s steps, relying on his direction. It’s such an easy thing to do, because…well, Louis belongs with Harry–surely they’ve come from the same star.

Snarled in his persistent thoughts Louis doesn’t track their movements, but, then Harry’s reaching out to open a door he hadn’t known was there. In a rush the Alpha marshals him into the room; it’s Harry’s. A place Louis’ spent too little time. A sanctuary. Around little, frantic inhales, Louis purrs, and tilts his head as that special scent condenses in his mouth. It’s all around, Harry’s remnants, and this is where Louis wants to _stay._

Wordless, Harry sits him on the plush carpet, where Louis tucks his legs underneath his bum. “What am I waitin’ for?” Louis asks curiously when Harry doesn’t settle beside him right away.

“You’re about to find out.” Again, sweet, young, carefree Harry returns, and Louis grins, curious and eager to know the source behind this sudden vibrancy. Intently, Louis listens to the nearby sounds Harry’s actions bring to; in a room like this, ostentatious and expansive, every sound echoes. Even so Louis can’t figure out what Harry is up to, and wonders once again what the appeal to surprise really is.

Louis isn’t left to his thoughts as Harry settles before him (graceless in his haste). Objects are strewn between them. “What’s all this?” the boy asks inquisitively, not yet daring to touch without Harry’s permission.

“Well,” the Alpha’s chuckle is…nervous. “It’s…I’ve been taking pictures.” _Pictures?_ Like saying so actually answers his question. Confusion washes through the Omega, “But what is it?”

“It’s…I…Here.” Something is placed in his lap. With his bottom lip caught between his canines Louis gently takes the _‘here’_ in his hands. It’s heavy, bound by suave leather. “A…book?”

“Touch it. Read it.”

And so Louis does, running the tips of his fingers along the spine before roaming the cover only to snatch his hand back. “Go ahead,” the Alpha presses softly as Louis’ breaths hitch. “Please.”

As the boy caresses the Braille his fingers sport a fine tremble;

_‘I know now what it is to be seen._

_With Your soul, You see me._

_With Your mind, You see me._

_With Your hands, You see me._

_And I promise to see You the same._

_I promise,_

_I promise,_

_I promise,_

_to love You with My eyes closed._

_““You’ve shown me your beautiful heart,_

_and it is like staring into the sun._

_I will gladly go blind, for I_

_could never look away.””_

And plated at the left edge is _LouisandHarry, Ad infinitum._

With his heart almost strangling him Louis rereads over and over and over, again and again and again until emotion’s reckless tendrils break through. From nowhere, from _everywhere,_ the tears spill down his cheeks.

As to save the soul-shattering surprise form his tempest Louis covers his face with his hands.

“No more tears,” the Alpha’s voice is raw, _ruined._ “I needed there to be _something._ Something to represent us both. And…I found it in this. It’s a scrapbook.” Willingly, Louis crawls into Harry’s lap, folding so he’s small as possible, and soaking Harry’s shirt in soundless tears. “Listen.”

It’s really all Louis can do.

On and on the Alpha describes every photo ( _“and this one is you with paint smeared on your cheek,” and “Paris…We look in love. We’re grossly in love, kitten,” and “this one’s most recent, our selfie, you’re sunshine when you smile I swear,” and on)_ until the Omega is reliving every precious moment they’ve shared. So easily, like this, Harry breaks apart the waves, carrying him safely to shore.

Only this time the tide does not cling like an anchor to his feet–the waterline…recedes.

And in spite of all he’s said, and all he _hasn’t,_ Louis has never been so in love.

“I just…have to keep you with me. Someday, you’ll be sleepin’, likely dreaming off all this pain. And I hope you’ll hear me in the streetlamp’s humming, softly breathing out your name. I’ll always love like this. _I promise I promise I promise to love you with my eyes closed.”_

&&

            A ragged noise tears up his throat, pierces the (un)natural silence. Imprisoned by swirling disorientation and crippling heaves and a blind panic he can’t control, Harry’s scattered stare darts around the room. There’s no point: it’s empty, the absence of warmth is evidence enough. Anything its possessor’s lack, the manor tells in echoes of tragedy, loneliness, and oppression. It’s all so fucked.

He’s so royally _fucked–_ the ivy of the past threatens to overtake him again, all the things he’s failed to do, all the difference he hasn’t made, all the care he’d tried to take, but had fallen short on…and now there is a new layer, Louis’ layer.

Like this Harry hears his father’s disapproval crawl angrily into his head. And the ruins in his mother’s final farewell. And his sister’s loss at what could never again be.

It’s mind-bending agony. In efforts to escape he pushes his palms into either side of his skull so hard his arms shake.

Last is Louis’; _Please don’t shatter me._

In seconds his mind has grinded to an uneven halt, the gears glued by instinct. The bonded Alpha rips to life, breaking free of the lies he’s told himself about how he fucking feels, roaring out of the cave of his heart, stripping him of nearly everything civilized.

Angry emotional shit springs to his eyes, but God damn it he’s fixed on finding the sun. He’s tired, is the thing. He’s so _over_ all the _almost._ Unlike him, the animal never grows tired of the chase, the challenge, the _cold._ They’re both ready to run.

With no way to change their rolling tide Harry’s motions are wild, out of control. While reason trails at a walk the Alpha take off in a dead run through the empty space, chasing chasing chasing. “Master Styles!” Someone cries, (he can’t be bothered to listen), and again, “Mr. Styles, please, _wait!_ ” _And fuck does he._

…his head stops and his heart stops and his body stops and his breath _stops._

As the sky cries, _weeps,_ Louis spirals in slow, magnetic tendrils. As his heart loses its mind Harry steps through the side-entrance, onto the tended to range stretching before winter withered forests. (How? Who? _Why?)_

It’s painless, his oblivion ( _fuck_ the circumstances).  “Louis,” his voice is still raspy with sleep, unwilling to rise with him.

Drenched, the Alpha can only think there is so much beauty in their storm. And he will _never_ look away from the ethereal being who speaks in every curling wave of wind and sings in every violent breeze. “Are you mad?”

“The sky’s crying, Haz,” the seraph cries–twirling in another graceful loop with his short arms extended to the heavens and his head thrown backwards; his thin lips (now alarming in their shade) are tilted in a tiny, sad smile. “Let’s show the sky how to be happy. ‘S always so sad…” _Because this is Britain, love._

“You’re just going to a catch a cold, kitten.” Surely, he thinks grudgingly, I can do much better than that. He masters in the art of attention.

Grounded, the Alpha tracks towards him in decisive steps until he’s close enough to reach out and touch like he so badly wants to. Except…with an airy laugh Louis springs and stumbles for him with eyes so wide, vivid like the lightening lit skies, lashes spiked with droplets. Christ, Harry wants only _this–look what you’ve done to me, baby._

Grasping both thin, frail wrists in his hands, Harry’s gaze bores with purpose; to unravel the soul behind those empty-house eyes, until Louis breathes timidly through parted lips, “Won’t you kiss me?”

And _fuck all that’s unraveling is him._

Closing any distance, the Alpha’s hand, wet and fumbling, takes Louis’ as the other cups his ashen face. Out of control, starved, Harry’s mouth comes down on the Omegas. 

Louis’ gasp is sweet, too sweet; the sound seizing his veins and nerves and his being.

Driven, _desperate_ to have what he’s been missing so long, the Alpha possesses his mouth, tonguing at his cold, soft lips and teasing his tongue and breathing in his essence. So still, Louis sighs, and it’s the happiest he’s sounded in weeks.

With a gravelly laugh Harry pulls away (as if against this thunder shakes the ground and lightning strikes in the far distance).

“God…” the boy pants, so pretty. “I think I’m going to faint.” It’s more likely due to the bone-numbing cold, but Harry’s lovesick, and damn well _laughs,_ “Mm, won’t you dance with me first?”

A delicious pink dusts his sharp cheeks. “I’ve danced enough.”

“You can never dance enough,” the Alpha quips seriously, and before Louis can sass him (he knows that look…all pursed lips and furrowed brows), makes it so that the boy’s shoes are on his sock-clad, numb feet. It’s nearly painless, so worth it when Louis’ small hand is encased in his own, when Louis is clinging to him. Grinning lopsidedly Harry sweeps them along the grass, though Louis huffs, “We can’t dance without music, Harold,” like he hadn’t been just moments ago. Always difficult, his Louis.

Unfazed, Harry hums, and moves to the melody brought to by Louis so many months ago. It’s his favourite, aside from his own. “What’s this?”

“It’s a composition. Letting Go, Issac Shepard.” Natural as the rain falls Harry carries them (inconspicuously) towards the manor (he’s sure they have an audience peering through the shades and the fringes. He just…doesn’t care).

Unaware as ever Louis rests in head on Harry’s shoulder. “Do you write music? You play…Z, erm, told me. I didn’t know…you actually played.” 

“Did he now?”

“Yes…” the boy hesitates, like he’s afraid he’s thrown Zayn to the wolves (wolf, in this case), but, even so, “You didn’t want me to know?”

“No. It just has never seemed important enough to mention,” Harry mutters warily, nosing at his sopping hair while taking them through the composition, because despite the slight chatter of his teeth the Omega’s breaths quicken with excitement. It’s a lovely occurrence.

“’S all important. I want to know all there is to you, Haz. I want to love you even then.” Anxiety aches in his chest; he wishes those words weren’t so very sincere. There is so much shit, so many demons, he will _never_ allow him to know. Dark shit that isn’t allowed to ever taint the masterpiece Louis is.

Wordlessly, the Alpha picks up where he left the melody and guides them _right._ Almost instantly the storm worsens; the sky’s taken by shadows. Despite Harry’s agitation Louis does not seem to mind, trembling, “H-Haz?”

Vision blurry along the edges Harry sees nothing. “Yes, little one?”

“Play for me.” There’s such an unassuming hope in his voice and Harry _just_ – “I will. I promise I will…when you aren’t seconds from freezing to death.”

“I’m ha-hardly–,” it _hardly_ matters, the cross entry comes apart by his icy force, and they’re brought back to warmth. “O-O-Okay,” the boy surrenders around vicious shivers, “Now ‘s c-cold.”

As to save him from the crushing cold the Alpha wends them through dicey, slippery steps, snatching the throw neatly situated over one of the open sitting room sofas to drape it over his frail shoulders (it’ll do for now as Louis huddles, nose already dripping with sniffles).

“What’s your favourite soup?”  It’s a purposefully put question as Harry tugs Louis through his bedroom and into the connecting bath. He doesn’t wait on an answer, distancing them so Louis trembles in the middle of the spacious bathroom. “Strip,” the Alpha orders shrewdly, reaching over the porcelain claw-foot bath to fiddle with the tap. Mist spreads, thick and humid, as the hot stream fills the padded bathtub.

In adorably nervous confusion the boy ducks his head, and toys with his fingers. “W-Why? What’re we doin’?”

“Because I said so, and what I say goes.” _Yeah, right. Funny._

“G-Gimme a bett’ah reason,” Louis’ reedy voice quivers with more than just a reaction to the cold.

“’M going to bathe you,” Harry clarifies quietly, then as to reassure him of his intention (honorable for once). “Just going to wash you, warm you up some. And afterwards we’ll have soup.” Reasonable enough. Except…Louis doesn’t move to undress. With every raw streak his Alpha’s claws draw, Harry’s jaw works.  “Am I going to have to undress you, Lou?”

Anxious, the boy shakes his head (droplets fly from his soaking hair), easing his grip on the throw so it’s fluttered to the tile. Clothes clinging to him, the Omega toes out of his trainers, and so slowly shrugs out of his top. Christ, in his eyes, there is nothing _beyond_ this. Yeah, he is so _fucked, bonded_ so intensely _–_ every gesture, every move this boy makes, makes him feel like _never_ before. It’s an ever-evolving need to be beside him, to _love_ him, to care and tend, and _know_ him from the inside out.

Just the sight of him, soft, slim, _full,_ is a surge of electric that makes Harry feel like he’s been snorting lines of coke for two weeks straight. Straining, his cock bulges in his trousers, and Christ, his mouth is dry as his stare tracks the glistening droplets that glide down his golden skin.

Wanting out out out of his own skin Harry tears his greedy gaze away to focus on the ceiling; it’s boring and bland and he’s still paying more attention to the sound of every piece of heavy cloth spattering to the tile. It’s too telling; conjuring images he sure as hell can’t handle at this point.

Not now.

“’Az…I-I-I need…help,” _So do I, kitten._ “’M…done.”

Burned, but not buried, Harry’s visual scope shifts, almost unbearably distinct, clinging to Louis’ face. So _tiny,_ too tiny. With all the weight Louis’ lost in these empty days, the boy is so washed out with his paper white features. The shadows he so strongly refuses wait in his glassy eyes. It’s punishing, the fragility he is, in need of protection. _You know I told you I wasn’t scared? Well, I lied._

The elastic band encompassing his control thins with the slight stretch; it’s stretched too thin already. A war has broken out in his head, the old against the new. It’s so clear already, who’s won.

Restrained, Harry acts as any sane bonded Alpha would, all but lifting the thin Omega only to ease him into the bath. Immersed, Louis trembles violently, knees to his chest; it’s not nearly enough. Snatching the showerhead, the Alpha tests the temperature, then, softly, “It’s okay, little one. I’ve got you.” And he _does–_ directing the stream at him the Alpha takes his hand and focuses on his face, watching his features soften in time with his body under the warmth.

When the boy’s body is still enough Harry orders distractedly, “Hold this,” and curls Louis’ loose fingers around the rinse. Gathering soap in sure hands, the Alpha grasps his shoulders firmly, kneading until the tension dwindles entirely.

“Like this?”

“Yes,” it’s barely audible as Louis noses at his arm. “You spoil me.” _Not nearly enough._  

Harry simply continues wordless until the Omega’s lathered and washed. Once there is more colour to his skin, to his eyes, the Alpha gradually towel dries the boy’s hair. “All done,” he announces, satisfied. “Let me just grab fresh clothes for you.” In record time Harry returns, gathers Louis in his arms to dry his skin and help him into his thick, forest green jumper over his white T-shirt, those obscene tights he fancies so much, and socks with pretty speckles.

“There. Now, let me just–,” but before he can, slim arms round his middle as Louis settles softly against him. “Stay,” his breath ghosts along his skin, warm and haunting. Without meaning to the Alpha carries him impossibly close. “Always…I always love only you.”

His heart fucking _bleeds._

And his eyes, they try to, leaving his lashes disgustingly damp with the tears he knows only how to refuse.

It’s in this fierce moment the two find what they somehow lost.

All else fades to black–it’s what it’s always been meant to be.

A call trills and furies against this, Des Styles does, but…the Alpha drops his cellphone so it shatters on the ground. He doesn’t care what statement that action makes. He only cares to know the secrets, the _soul,_ within the vivid blue of Louis’ eyes.

At last, they do everything wholly _right–_ they whisper, they don’t talk; they gentle, they don’t damage; they feel, they feel, they _feel._

And oh God…Louis shivers like he used to, abandons the past wreckage. Just for him. _“I love the way you look at me. I’ll leave Him behind…just for you.”_

&&

Sometime during their truth-telling exchange the Omega falls asleep; fights it like hell until his words are random and indistinct and fade into contented purrs. On his side, more awake than he’d like to be, Harry strokes his lengthy fringe from his fluttering lashes; always marveling, savoring. It’s ominously quiet, his Alpha glad to watch his precious Omega dream soundly like he hasn’t in too long, seeking nothing but the console the boy offers, trusting him enough to let those steely sentinels down.

All that’s left of the storm from hours ago is the gentle collision of sleet upon the rooftop.

It’s too perfect to last, which, no surprise there. A cautious beat on the entry interrupts their silence. It’s not difficult to relocate his piss-poor attitude in the time it takes to rise from the bed his hearts fixation lay clueless. Standing now Harry’s neglect creeps up on him in crests of confusion and fatigue, like he’s downed too damned much liquor (realistically, it’s his starving stomach. It’s on his list of things to get to, just–).

Another invasive knock. Right, the door.

Deadweight, the Alpha struggles with his coordination, then, minutes-too-late, confronts the interruption. It’s a Beta–twitchy, uneasy, harmless. Even so, Harry steps away from the room, distancing them from the firmly shut barrier. 

“What.”

“Master Styles…He’s on the line,” Beta diffidently exposes one hand, holding an iPhone.

 _You’re dismissed,_  a cold voice, one he’s acted on before, sneers in his head. The snotty privileged Alpha, bred above all others.   “I, uh, need some privacy,” tacking on awkwardly, “Please.” Only when Harry confiscates the phone does Beta recollect his wits, and disappear. Vanished. Gone. Poof. Which…really, is the world entirely backwards? Or has it always been quite so simple?

“What now.” It’s spoken without emotion or expression; it’s best that Des Styles believe he’s an empty casing, a severely blank canvas. It’s more them–as if there could ever be a _them_. Yeah, no, that’d be just another stalemate, another futility. It’s always just been him, and their irreparable damage.

“I’ve been calling,” the Council Alpha bites tightly. In tasteless amusement, the Alpha’s mouth twists in a smile so faint it’d be easy to miss.  “I noticed.”

There’s a smothering silence before the old bastard reigns in his very existent, faulty temper. “I haven’t the time for pup’s play. We have pressing matters to see to,” _yet again_. “I expect your presence, in office, in no less than twelve hours. That is all.”

“I’m not sure that works for me, Des. See, I’m an extremely busy heir with tons–,”

“I’ll see to it that you never acquire this title.”  _Oh, how will I go on?_

An almost howling laugh shakes his flying-free soul. “Spare me,” the next stream is dramatized, but hell is it the best damned laugh he’s had with daddy dearest. “Listen, we can continue this discussion when I’m there to. In the meanwhile, prepare the necessaries, I’m rescinding my heirship to Council _.” I am? I am._

In his head it’s been handled so he doesn’t hesitate to end the call, finding Beta to return his cell. He’s walking away by the time the phone starts up, “I’m not home!” is all he jauntily offers the poor, pestered Beta.

Huh, so this is power; riding its high, the Alpha knows nothing but control for once in his forsaken fucking life. Alas, like all other things, it’s short-lived. A warzone, Louis is; fuck he hadn’t been anticipating defeat but his senses are stunned by the assault. It’s too undeniable and electric for him to turn away, to do the right thing.

And too much force to withstand all the same. 

As to not collapse Harry braces one hand on the doorframe; it’s everywhere, his pheromones, rosy and delicious, permeating from his fever flushed skin. He is going to burn. It’s out of his hands, but…damn it, that’s  _his_  Omega, and everything Alpha in him wants to stick around. Has to.

The sight is of him is blinding in its intensity; Louis’ miniature legs tangled in his already damp sheets; Louis’ sheen face scrunched cutely, mouth obscenely red. Omega in the flesh. Every Alpha’s dream; a place so pure, so dirty and raw. So close, dangerously close to that sweet, sweet time in his life, his coming of age. More than the pain, Harry thinks of all the pleasure.

Louis is a paradise so alluring, he’s lost all fear; he’s surely lost all sense. So taken, the Alpha prowls forward onto the mattress where the Omega bolts upright, all wet lashes and ingenuous eyes, “Haz.” God damn it Harry’s heart is not prone to breaking, but right now the organ that beats behind his sternum shatters like a mirror.

“Oh baby, look at you,” his voice sounds raw, awed even.

A sleepy smile is all Louis returns before his strength seems to give, and he’s sprawled against him, all heated honey. “Hazzy, I don’t feel too good. Kiss me bett’ah.”

Snaking an arm around the slim of his waist, all reckless behavior, the Alpha hikes his soft, pliant body so the Omega is properly seated in his lap. One hand finds its home along the curve of Louis’ cheek so Harry cradles him, dipping so close the boy’s bated breaths are warm on his mouth. Drugging him, Louis’ scent clings and melds so lovely with his own. Meant.

Meant. Meant. Meant.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

In a frenzied euphoria, Harry doesn’t know the how or the when but abruptly against his mouth Louis’ lips are like a bed of fire. His tongue tastes honeyed.

Starbursts of pleasure catch in his veins, striking flames to his body. “Kiss me, forev’ah,” it’s so slurred, already breathless. Hell if Harry ever stops.

A menacing growl rips up his throat at the mere prospect; his hand drifts to fist the boy’s silky hair, tugging so his mouth only teases the swollen flesh of Louis’. A closer look he just can’t deny. All kitten-like, the Omega mewls; those eyes, restraining him, are sapphire rings around the expanse of his blown pupils.

It’s an out-of-control collision, crushing all clarity.

In an abrupt rupture the boy undulates wildly, a fierce flare of energy spearing from his flushed body. The potency of the hormones, the perfume, seals his fate.

Drawn to his irresistible flame the Alpha tongues at his begging mouth; it’s wet, and sloppy, with how spacey the boy’s become. His little tongue is all submissive strokes, for his taking. Christ, he gets lost in the same desperation. On fire for the feel of him, taking his flimsy T-Shirt in both hands, too easily he tears the material down the middle, so it simply slips away. 

A good boy he’s going to destroy, Louis is downy, warm, and lovely beneath his hands. Somewhere, lost to him, a part of him, is so sorry for the violation he’s going to commit tonight; wishes he could rewind and pause, if only to talk this through. That part of him is gone before he knows it.

Low in his throat, Harry growls with an Alpha’s resonance, chasing his little tongue for another taste before sinking his canines into the plush of his bottom lip. A needy noise is his reward as Louis lolls and pants, taking it until Harry choses to ease up, sucking softly.

Demanding out, his cock pounds with his heartbeat, hard and fat and more than ready to breed him. He can smell how fertile his body is, the Alpha in him could never forget. 

Muscles bunched with strung tension Harry tugs with his teeth, and the wet little pop that follows his retreat takes him to an entirely uncharted level of instinct.  “Mine.”

And fuck the boy must love knowing who he belongs to. Another, white-hot flourish of energy ripples through him, bowing his body beautifully. Louis is so fervent, moaning breathily with an aching edge, “Alphas. Only Alphas, only–,”

“Only mine,” the Alpha bites because fuck he  _knows_  he’s going to have him. He’s going to own him. He’s going to slap his perky ass, pull his hair, and fuck him until he is his only.

“Haz,” Louis gasps, the prettiest surprise, when Harry puts this into action, pinning him to the mattress. On his knees, gripping the chunky flesh of the Omega’s thighs in possessive hands, he parts them easily, and wrenches his hips forward so his luscious ass nestles the straining bulge in his trousers. In a trance, wanting more more more of him, to smell him on his skin, Harry shrugs out of his shirt, going to start at the button of his trousers when Louis just–, “Please, please, want it, want it…’S okay. ‘M okay. ‘S goin’ to be–,” Searing shivers wreck up his spine, watching those little jolts shock his fiery body. His belly, the soft cradle of his hips just barely visible with the lovely little tights, the straining length of his cock, already spotting the dark spandex material, the slight hint of his ribs beneath his skin with every heavy breath, the pretty peaks of his nipples, in his heat the Omega glows.

It stills his bones, and all he thinks as those round eyes well with tears is  _his eyes are so bloody blue._

“Christ, you know it, don’t you? You know you’re the prettiest little thing. I just want to–,” Louis’ hips shy. Baring the points of his canines Harry grips the slight juts of his hips to ground his ass down on his cock with a drawn-out rasp.

Clawing at the sheets, Louis cries breathily, those quick, broken, “uh”s electrify his nerves, the current directly driven to his cock. Glistening, tiny tears ooze past his lashes and spill down his rosy cheeks; he’s muffling his noise in the sheets.

“No.” Something in his conscious mind is so bothered by this, he shakes his head against the compulsion briefly. “You don’t do that. Don’t hide from me.”

Always so eager to please the Omega nods madly, begs shamelessly, “Please, please, I need–,” And his attention span just aborts his conscious mission to comfort him. His lone mission is to get him caught on his knot _,_ to bond him, to have all of him.  

“I know, little one,” he rasps, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of Louis’ bottoms. “I need it, too.”  _But, I’ll take my time so you can’t ever forget this, me._  Proving so, Harry peels the thin material down his already slick thighs, gathering his legs to fold him and effectively balling the bloody things so they’re out of the way.

Always so heady, the fragrance stuns his brain, fucks with his head like nothing else. Damp, his wilted hair sticks to his forehead, and he is sweating with the effort (or how fucking hot it is) it takes to brace over his tiny, compact body, rather than showing him onto his belly and-

He has to have his mouth there,  _everywhere_.

Ducking his head, Harry’s kisses are gentle along the line of his collarbone (he’ll save the bites for the insides of his thighs, for his belly, for his special skin), fingertips ghosting over his nipples. Flames caress his skin everywhere they touch.

So sensitive, Louis’ breaths become pitchy, his nails streak over the bunched muscles of his back, leaving red, raised, stinging skin in their wake. A thrill of sensation pitches the fire, and with his heart wilding out in time with his cock, he’s too excited to see what a mess he’ll make of his boy. He promises to be kind and gentle; to shower him in all the love and care and comfort he deserves. But that’s for when they get to where they need to be.

All at once, another merciless wave of violent heat possesses him; primeval Alpha instinct breaching his sane mind. “Shh, shh, shh,” he’s weighing him down with his body to calm his flailing figure, kissing him languidly. He marvels at the taste of his tears, and the purr of his Omega, praises him frantically, “Such a good boy for Alpha. Wanna come for Alpha, lovely?” Surely his orgasm will help distract him from the emptiness, the pain of the flames–with any luck; he really can’t dredge up all those lessons on an Omegas needing period.

Only whimpers tumble from the boy’s wet lips.

A raw, violent sound builds low in his throat as Harry closes his mouth over one achy, peaked nipple, dragging his hand down Louis’ tummy. Powerless to this the Omega melts when his mouth teases his nipples and his hand fists his pretty, wet cock.

Under his touch the Omega’s hips jump, and incoherent words spill between them, so reedy it echoes. “You can come for Alpha now, kitten.” Grip tight, every stroke and slide is smooth with how leaky the boy is, wet everywhere for him. A madly appealing thought nails Harry in the head;  _I’d love to bathe in his slick._  His teeth graze his tiny, puffy nipple, and his tongue, and–So good for him, Louis’ spilling into his hand, spiraling into his orgasm.

Blurry, and out of his mind, the Alpha groans throatily in approval, thumbing at the wet slit even when Louis’ moans become little mewls of  _“no more, no more…”_

“More, sweets,” his voice is a thousand octaves too deep with his Alpha raging. Threatening to rip his hair from the roots, the boy hiccups between sporadic breaths, “I can’t. I-I-It hurts. I t-think ‘m on fire, A-Alpha.”

Because he can’t not, he clamps onto one nipple lightly, then tongues his sore flesh to sooth him when he wrings his hair hard enough fresh tides of sensation creep through him.

“Be good,” he commands softly, because the poor boy, his poor lovely Omega looks so desperate, struggling with his fundamental biology. “Let it happen.”

“I’m s-scared,” it sounds like him, yet so Omega. Reality arises and drifts so unpredictably Harry’s agitation escalates, though Louis isn’t finished, “Alpha promised t-to take care of me, b-b-but...it’s scary.”

“I’m going to. I have to, kitten. Don’t be scared, I’ve got you.”He shifts, bracketed by his fleshy thighs, stroking the line of his bottom lip with two digits, pressing down softly. So open for him the Omega’s lips part, and he’s drawing his fingers into his mouth, tugging and teasing. He’s so  _pretty,_ focused on his fingers in his mouth, like he might fall asleep like that.

Christ, he’ll never quit this boy.

Gently, when Louis’ energy ebbs the slightest bit, Harry presses the pads of his fingers hard on his tongue so (adorably reluctant) the boy lets up enough he can show him onto his belly, tucking two pillows beneath his twitchy hips. Mesmerized, his gaze follows the line of his spine, traces the swells of his tight ass, the slick flesh of his chunky thighs. His body is almost too heavy, wavering against the immensity, and were he not so crazed for this, he might pass out.  

“You’re so…brilliant,” he can’t even breathe around it all, there’s so much of it. “I keep falling in love with you. I just…” his mouth runs gently down the delicate curve of his spine.  _They must be in flames by now._

Louis is not listening, babbling as his thighs saw. Far gone, Harry’s heart guns, and his words bullet. “l always love you. I will, always.”

And he will–he has absolutely nothing left to lose. This is it: how he’ll make it  _right._

Palming his sweet ass, he hopes stupidly his palm prints are left behind in an angry red despite how he gentles. Once the boy’s squirming, mumbling his name around sweet nothings, his hands grip the tasty rounds of his ass with more force. Spread like this the Omega presents the prettiest view of his little, glistening hole. Again,  _always,_ the scent shoots up his nose straight to his brain. Shorting out, the length of his cock throbs, jerking against his trousers. All he can do is stare at his drippy, pink entrance. It’s everything Harry needs tonight.

Shivers dance up Louis’ spine when he’s recovered enough to nose at the curves of his ass, inhaling the rich sent, and exhaling his own so it’s warm on his fluttery hole. “Please, please, make it _stop_ ,” the boy pants, breathy. “Make it _bett’ah_.”

“Let me,” his mouth latches onto the soft vulnerable skin of his trembling thigh, prying them apart once they try to clamp down. A pretty, love bitten bruise is left in his wake.  And another, and another, until Louis is giggling hazily, “Vampire! Vampire! Get ‘way from–,” He doesn’t mean to. He really fucking  _doesn’t._ But, such an animal, he act's only on impulse,sinking the sharp points of his canines into the flesh of his left thigh. Piercing, broken, the boy whimpers, and around the blazing taste of his blood, fiery and Omega and still so fucking sweet, he can sense the approaching resistance. Unconscious, his hand circles Louis’ wrist, pinning his hand to his back easily. With every incessant breath, his heat climbs, and  _fuck he has to–_ he’s fixed on the prize, the  _sun,_ mouthing at his tight, slick balls, working his way up to bury his face where it belongs. It’s more an apology at first; mouth closed just brushing though Louis cries and rocks backwards so his mouth is flush to his little opening.

Christ, he  _is_ on fire, drenched and swollen against his mouth. Craving the taste, the Alpha licks a fat stripe up across his fluttering flesh, the slick thick and warm and syrupy coating his tongue. “Mine,” because he can never say it enough; like his taste buds can never have enough of the slick that’s just for his mouth, and his cock, and his hands, and  _him him him._

Jacking his hips, wanting  _it all,_ Harry bends enough that the muscles of his shoulders bunch and his mouth is all over Louis’ sweet little hole. With every languid stroke, every caress and trace and suck, the boy comes apart in spearing energy. Breaths heavy, hot, Harry thumbs between his soaking cheeks, tugging at his puckered drippy flesh. In rough drags his tongue works to fit itself in his tight, burning entrance. A growl rips to life the second the tip of his tongue is snug in his ass, only urged to have it all, sucking like he might.

It’s only seconds before Louis convulses, and cries out in his orgasm, another torrent of slick oozing into his mouth, escaping his tongue he’s so tense. “Always so wet for me, baby,” like this, his voice is fucked, and his jaw doesn’t ache enough. He  _belongs here._

“Alpha, gimme, gimme…” he’s all gasps and moans, perking his pretty ass out for it, breaking Harry’s prodding motions. The subsequent force of energy that radiates from him is so punishing Harry nips at his hole in retaliation, grazes the swollen flesh with his teeth, growls strengthened by the boy’s dry heaves and weeps. “Still, baby,” another frantic groan as he forces his mouth away to–,

 _“You aren’t listening to me, morons! It ain’t right! It smells funky, and you know it! Let’s just go! Let’s be anywhere, but here!”_ an enraged Irish voice snarls and sneers and shreds through the thick curtain of heat, missioning his animal’s hostility. Alight with his heat Louis doesn’t appear to notice the invasion, hands fisting his hair, needy grinding his ass, drawing a response from him.  _Fuck,_ he’s working his hole again, wired and wild, tossing care to the flames and tearing his face away, mouth and chin wet and bruised lingering on the skin of his delicious ass.

“Don’t stop, Alpha. Don’t stop, don’t–,” his hand sneaks between the warm globes of his ass, fingers kneading the tight flesh of his right cheek as slick coats his hand and drips down his wrist. It’s fast. So fucking fast; his breath rough and ragged as, at the last possible moment, he turns him onto his back again, wanting to memorize his feel and his taste and  _him,_ before he can’t anymore. A torn sound scrapes his throat, and he’s lurching forward to tongue the sweet, soft insides of his mouth, the pads of his fingers prodding at his sweet space, dipping with little resistance he's so fucking  _wet and melted for him._

All at once the moment is stolen from him.

Edgy, on high alert, his senses stay with the oncoming threat. Mismatched footsteps, like a fucking  _stampede;_ voices, all different tempos and patterns, reminding him how ugly instinct can be.

Taking his hand away, the Alpha uses both to grapple and drag the sheets over the Omega’s withering figure. Nails are streaking down his back again, and the boy is rutting against his thigh, whining, damp breaths hot against the inked skin of his chest, “ _oh please, oh please, don’t stop.”_ The thing is, he  _has to._

Especially when the threat–four of the most idiotic (no  _three, Niall tried, Niall tried and he’ll spare him for that)_ boys invade his territory.

In all the wrong ways Harry loses his concentration, grasped with an animal’s impulse to dominant the competition and protect his mate. Mindless movement. He is only bonded Alpha nature as he lurches to his feet, jostling Louis who  _“umphs”_ and lies still for the heartbeats Harry goes for anything  _human._ It so happens to be Zayn (he fucking hates the animal reflected in those wide, dark eyes), prepared to kill–

From out of nowhere Liam steps in front of him, derailing the attack by grabbing him around the waist and dragging him away from the others with his weight. It’s a stupid fucking move; even between friends…because they _aren’t_ friends right now, they’re enemies. Unless you’re an eighteen-wheeler, you don’t want to get in the way of a bonded males target of this kind of aggression: Harry’s attack instinct shifts its focus instantly.

Baring his canines the Alpha hauls off, and punches his Omega’s nearest and dearest Alpha _friend (fuck)_ in the face.

And that’s fucking _it._

Vision distorted by a crimson hue and black, shadowed edges, Harry only knows the other Alpha releases him like he’s a bloody beehive, then, (something only his animal could anticipate) whips back his fist and throws a low-higher that catches his jaw. He can’t feel it, reacts without pause. “Harry! C’mon, mate, _chill!”_ it’s definitely Zayn, anxious and torn.

There are no holds barred, there’s already blood, from his nose (it doesn’t feel right; it’s probably broken, wouldn’t be the first time) and surely Liam’s contorted mouth. Any weakness is abolished by the adrenaline strengthening his body, the bloodthirsty fucker already foaming at the mouth. For once, not even Liam summons any wise word; he’s an Alpha in his actions.

They’re pummeling the shit out of each other when the Alpha tracks the movements of another; bordering the bed, where his shrilly, distressed Omega is so small, so tiny, so _helpless,_ rocking himself erratically.

 _To hell with Liam._ Without conscious permission, _like he has any,_ he’s charging the more trying of the two.  This one should be a simple task–just a tiny twist of the neck and–, “ _For fuck’s sakes!”_ Someone _(something?)_  slams into him from the side. Under the force, Harry crumbles to the floor with his brain sloshing around in his skull and his insides shuffled like a deck of cards. A hand cozies around his throat, and an Alpha’s resonant voice tears straight through the ringing in his ears, “If you fucking _try_ to touch my Omega again, _fucked up or not,_ I’ll end you, Styles.” His brain just _won’t_ _listen,_ refuses to– _not_ _to_ _this fucker_ , the animal is bloodthirsty.

“ _Leave him alone!”_ There is nothing _okay_ about this. Especially not when Louis’ upset is extreme, and earsplitting. “ _Haz, please, make them stop!”_ In these inevitable heartbeats ice rains down on him, an icy ache. Just as much Harry wants him, wants to taste Louis’ cherry-red lips because they might taste like him, and maybe, _just_ maybe that’ll be their magic touch, and fate might take all this back and let them _be meant._

If not, he’ll have to find a way to drown himself in the boy’s slick.

It’s all in shadows, his senses stunted and his brain barren and his body nothing more than force and instinct and anger. He can’t breathe; his lungs are strangled by the fumes of the fire. Defeated, the Alpha turns his head, and blinks until he can see Louis falling apart in Niall’s arms, bawling with those blind eyes bleary and red-rimmed.

Screwing his lids shut, Harry coughs, throat sore and tight, “I’ll go. I’ll stop. I’m sorry. Get him away from me.”

“No. No, no, Alpha, _please, don’t leave me.”_ At the top of his lungs the Omega is wailing, and Harry _burns for him,_ on fire like a thousand suns.

Supporting him, the grip around his throat eases and Josh’s thumb strokes his pounding pulse, all the while the other Alpha murmurs, “C’mon, Haz. Look at me.” He almost wants to. Tries, fails. “You’re doing the right thing, H. This isn’t how it should go. You want more than this. For him. For _you._  You’re an Alpha, Haz, but _you are not your Alpha._ And I speak for all of us when I say I’m sorry shit hasn’t exactly gone your way. But I _promise,_ it’s going to.” _Just not right now,_ goes unsaid.

Just not like this.

A hurt, pathetic noise crawls up his throat as tears sting his straining eyes.

“Just…let me, let me just,” Denial clashes with desperation as the Alpha takes Josh’s wrist, and pries it from his throat. Around the tears, Harry meets the other Alpha’s steely stare. A wreckage, he can’t tell just how much devastation is visible, but doesn’t care to as Josh’s hand falls to his side. Possessed by something bigger than him, Harry just _is._  

A cold sweat breaks on his skin as his arms hook underneath Louis’, drawing his frail, slick body forward into his lap, muttering _“no,”_ when the Omega gasps, _“yes”._

“Louis, kitten,” he’s sighing into his damp hair. Almost vibrating from the force of his tremors Louis clings to him, hiccupping against his skin inaudibly. “Louis, _listen to me,_ baby.” In such a fragile state of Omega mind the boy can’t defy is will. It disturbs him, fortifies his resolve. He can sense the Omega’s attention, faulty, but there. An urgency swarms in his chest, and, “’S gonna be okay, baby. You’re so strong. You’ll be okay. I just…I can’t stay, kitten. Please, tell me you understand why I can’t do this right now…like this.”

Dissolving into fresh tears, _“N-No, I d-don’t!”_  

“Because,” his fingers stroke his feathery fringe from his face, petting. Tense, and twitchy, the Alpha tries to put his thoughts into words. He’s just so soft, so _hot,_ and he wishes this wouldn’t ever end. “Because I’m madly in love with you, sweets. We said we’d do this right, and I’m going to. I just need some time. You’re the best boy. Best _everything._ I promised, and I still promise.”

“B-B-But I need _now._ Don’t leave me, Hazzy, please d-d-don’t.”

Cupping his sweet, sticky face, tilting his face so he’s drowning in the depths of his eyes. In the distance, Liam words are sharp, cutting bullets, but he can’t hear it around the waves of whispers, _“don’t go, don’t leave him, how could you.”_

He’s not to be trusted, and Louis knows it; he can’t stand the heartbroken look transforming his features.

“I’ve got ‘im. ‘S okay, Haz. Just go on, and take the lot of them with you,” Niall mumbles quietly, and, despite how Harry bares his canines, captures Louis’ fighting figure. Liam, affected enough to set him on edge, and Josh, watching Niall hungrily, restrain him.

All at once, confronted with the awareness that he’s leaving his Omega alone and agonized and _crying for him,_ fury recovers control. Despite his hostility the two manage to tow him away, almost causally shouting over his snarls and his menace throughout the distance.

A vision, a vagueness, another faded image is the bedroom he hasn’t stepped foot in for so many years, for so many unspoken reasons. It’s not like Mother could stop him now. It’s not like Des cares to. Like him, the older Council Alpha rejects the existence of the past (maybe it’s just too much loss to bear…) 

Silence contains him; the hush from so many years ago falling over everything like a funeral prayer again. Faint recollections, the countryside drive and the landscape seen from the window of the backseat with some flowers in a basket. Mother cried the whole way home. And Des? Des didn’t spare a word. Somehow, from the outside looking in, they still seemed like a perfect family.

It hadn’t rained that day.

It should’ve.

Gemma would ask where “sister” went, and Father would say simply (as mum _couldn’t_ ) _,_ “It’s perfect where your sister’s went.” Only Harry seemed to believe it.

Faint recollections, escaping yet another fuming nanny alongside his older sister to find his parents in the kitchen at the table with Father lifting the lid of that sacred box. His hands shook.

Back then, he could only reckon what “stillborn” meant, or how it was so serious Council seemed to lament for them. No, back then, he only knew his mother wept and Des simply said, “Some things come but can’t stay here.” And damn it, he couldn’t understand why it seemed to hurt them so much then that she’d come and gone so soon; he could never understand what these reoccurring moments meant; what it meant that they never said it once aloud even sitting at that table with all things they’d kept. Cards, tiny clothes, and the smell of the paint from that bedroom. The two tiptoeing slowly around always speaking in desolate codes.

A brightness, he saw only once before Louis. Like a light through his eyes closed tight, but then she tumbled away. She was “sister” only whispered. He doesn’t wonder what happened to that box–he’d watched Des leave with it not too long after, and he doesn’t want to know what he’d done to the things they cherished most. He does wonder what _that did to them_.

A loss that isn’t his overwhelms him. A loss that _is_ his leaves him in mental ruins, the life drains from his veins and his nerves and his heart and all he has is suffering.

When the two Alpha’s let up and let go, Harry’s knees buckle. It’s then he reaches the lowest of lows. Curled up the smallest possible for him, the Alpha feels scalding tears stray down his face. A natural disaster, a failure, an experiment gone wrong, such a fucking _tragedy._

An earthquake rattles his bones, and bombs break down any weedy shield he stitched together.

One tear, two.

Three.  
Four.  
Five.  
Six.

_Fuck, no._

Frantic, wanting this to stop, to go away, to _not be him,_ Harry tries to run, but finds his body has given up. It doesn’t mean he is weak. It can’t.

The ghost of Louis’ presence compresses his chest like a vine.  
There’s an unshakeable absence of anything _more._

Gathering him in some twisted embrace Josh and Liam crush his shaking figure between their bodies. Words are being spun and retold, but he can’t know them because exhaustion, injury, trauma _, something, knocks_ him the fuck out. 

Their hearts must still beat the same, because Harry thinks he still sees him in his sleep.

&&

            “This is ridiculously daft! We aren’t doin’ much good to him driving around, Josh. Let’s take him to the emergency! I really beat the shit out of him,” presumably Liam, thin voice troubled. Well now _he’s_ one to exaggerate–though Harry still can’t feel his face, his ribs only twinge slightly with every breath, and his hands, bound to the small of his back, shake uncontrollably. Definitely not severe emergency condition. “C’mon, look at ‘im.” He tries to frown, but _fuck_ he must be delirious as Josh snickers, “He looks chipper to me. Look at those dimples! Absolutely–,”

“Stunning,” his voice sounds strangled with how tight and dry his throat feels.

“That’s the spirit, Styles!” Josh boosts, suspiciously.

“Should I be concerned, H?”  Liam, _ah Liam,_ sounds two seconds from pissing his pants.

“Depends,” despite his shot-to-hell vocal range his voice is level. “Concern for your life or mine?”

“Both.” It’s more a question than an answer.

“Well, in that case, ask again in about ten minutes.” Around what Harry hopes to be a bright, toothy grin, he sighs, more to himself than the other two, playing _police,_ “Murder weapon of choice: _spoon.”_

“Oh, fuck sakes, Josh!” Liam freaks–he can’t tell whether he’s serious or not. He thinks not. He might’ve been able to tell had they not blindfolded him. “Get that _thing_ away from me! I’ve had enough! He needs _help!_ He’s going to kill me.”

“He’s not going to kill you, Li,” Josh dismisses, like that’s entirely impossible. More amused than offended Harry chokes on his laughter; faint wheezing, hoarse and hacking. In attempts to kill the nasty sound Harry exhales through his nose. _Wrong._ Warm thick liquid drips, and Josh groans, horrified, “Oh man. No. Not on my seats!”

“Relax, Joshua,” Liam says easily. “It’s not goin’ to kill you.”

Around jagged breaths and curses, “Reckon it’s broken.”

“Well I can’t see out of one eye, Harold,” Liam mutters defensively, like this changes anything.

“Liam,” his words are gargled with how he’s collected the blood and saliva (Josh will have to let up or risk stains). “If you haven’t noticed, I can’t see out of either.” This shuts the other Alpha up long enough for him to bark at Josh, “Pull over.”

“Now why would I do that?”

“I gotta spit somewhere, sometime,” he drawls winningly. “This is my _returning the favor.”_

“Y’know, Harry,” Josh starts noncommittedly. “We all really bonded back there, didn’t we? You’re much easier to get along with when you’re speaking Alpha.”

“I can’t take any more of this. Pull over. We need a game plan,” Liam backs him up (if they keep this up he’ll have no choice but to talk _feelings,_ which he’s not inclined to let happen). Grumbling under his breath the mated Alpha listens, killing the engine and exiting the car. Liam follows suit.

Of course neither open the door for him.

“I don’t buy it. He was in shambles just hours ago. There’s no way he went from _that,_ to this…I don’t buy it.” A brunt out flame flickers. It doesn’t stand a chance. Chains of ugly thoughts lash out. A defense mechanism: his brain, an arsenal of denial, fires back.

“I don’t think he’s quite recovered his head either. He hasn’t even _asked._ Memory loss from trauma to the head? He did fall quite hard, but the lumps gone down.”

Sick of this, Harry cranes his neck, and shouts, “Listen, before the lot of you _misdiagnose me,_ I’d like to see some license, degree, anything!”

“He’s right, Li. C’mon, let Grumpy go.” Just like that, the door he’s slouched against comes apart. Unprepared, Harry nearly topples over, but Liam (by the scent of it) hefts his weight, tripping up before jacking him by the arm to his feet.

Shoving out of Liam’s hold, Harry spits, then prompts edgily, “Blindfold. Bondage. ‘M not into this S&M shit.”

“BDSM,” Josh amends, like it matters.

Wisely, nonetheless, they comply–the blindfold goes first, and his dry eyes adjust to the nature gloom, Liam cuts (at least he’s prepared) the makeshift bonds from his wrists.

“There, now fly free little butterfly.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, prodding at his crooked nose, which throbs in protest.

Silence strains and stretches as Harry stalks up to the right side view mirror. Well, it certainly looks worse than it _is._ Pale skin, and burnt out, bloodshot, eyes. Unlike Liam, there’s no bruises around his eyes, just a slight swelling from his awkwardly bent nose. His jaw is bruising quite nicely. One of them must’ve tied up his hair, as it’s in a loose bun– _how considerate._

“I need somethin’ to blow on,” he says on a weary breath.

“Glove compartment,” Josh offers uneasily. “Are you sure you don’t just want to go to emergency?”

“’S not so bad,” he dismisses the idea. “Shouldn’t take more than four adjustments. Li, why don’t you take a walk, mate.”

“Why?”

Softly, with one hand cupping his nose, “Go on, mate. I know you have a weak stomach.”

“Oh.” Ridiculously, Liam sounds…emotional. He wants to recoil. He just spits another splotch of mucous and blood. Quite charming, he is. “You remembered. That’s…uh…”

“Right. Well,” Harry clears his throat, already opening the door, “Go on. I have to revive my beauty.” 

Josh hurries Liam away, deciding to stick around “ _in case you pass out or summat,”_ despite Harry’s indifference, “I’ve done this before. No problem. You run along now. Don’t have too much fun.”  

Arms crossed, the mated Alpha doesn’t speak again (he’s all guarded. He has half the mind to wonder why. What could he possibly do all by his lonesome? Steal the car? Maybe). Used to an audience, Harry doesn’t bother with him, snatching the wad of napkins and riding his sinuses of all the gunk. 

“So,” Josh clears his throat, minutes in, “You managed to break that thing before? What happened?”

“A few times,” he swallows, hard, then to avoid anything serious, “Ran into a pole once.”

Josh doesn’t laugh like he’s expecting. Pity, someone ought to. “Tough. And the others?”

“For another time.” Carelessly, the Alpha tosses the napkins to the asphalt with a mental note to toss them to the next rubbish bin in sight, “Now, back to business.”

With both hands in triangle, Harry snugly fits them at the top of his crooked nose. “Well,” he exhales heavily through his mouth, “Here goes.” Underneath his pressure, the friable bones, used to this, shift. Pain rips to life, but he’s been here before, and doesn’t break the force, bearing down on the slight protuberance at the bridge until its set and straight as it’s going to get.

Lightheaded, the Alpha settles on the ground, planting his palms to keep himself from sagging. Like the ringing in his ears, the pain dulls to easily ignored throbs. “Well,” he peers up at Josh, “How do I look?” Still wincing, the mated Alpha tries, “Ah…You’ve never looked so alive?”

“Christ, I didn’t get a haircut. Is my nose set straight?”

“It’s much better.” To seem more believable Josh even offers a thumbs-up. Somehow he’s still not convinced. It must show as Josh opens his mouth (to correct himself, surely), but Liam reappears, gushing with obvious relief, “Oh, thank God. You did it! Looks almost perfect! Louis won’t kill me now.”

The name strikes an electric current, barbwire snaring his sane brain. Bombs _tick tick tick_ in his chest. Violence has a way of coaxing his nasty nature free. As his hands curl into tight, white-knuckled fists, words he’d heard too many times ago, _“Your fists are not made for flesh. No matter the presentation, a proper Alpha uses his words unless under extreme conditions. You’re growing up. See to it those words stay with you.”_ Yeah, well, sue him for forgetting those words applied to Alphas as well _._

A black wave of exhaustion breaks over him.

“Where is Louis?” he asks tiredly, avoiding their stares.

“You tell him,” Josh hisses, and Harry scowls, grounding his teeth to bite back his answering snarl.

“See...We couldn’t exactly stay there. You were going mental. And I…just couldn’t. So, we, uh, we left as soon as you passed out. We left…uh, Zayn and Niall in charge. They called Jay. She must be there by now.” Draping him, the dread is thick, inescapable. “Last I heard she was on her way. Don’t freak! It’s all under control. Well…Louis refuses to leave, actually. So, ah, Z had the building evacuated, and they, um, got him…help. He’s okay, H. Z mentioned somethin’ about security, but they had to go, Louis…needed, ah...assistance.”

“You’re tellin’ me…you left my _blind vulnerable hurting_ mate in the hands of those two?” Unable to help the reaction Harry bares the sharp points of his canines, curling and uncurling his unsteady hands.

“Well, they’re no Alpha-knot-now, but they’re Louis closest Omega companions. Niall had him laughing by the time we were leaving. We did the best we could under such short circumstances,” Josh claims cuttingly.

With an eerie balance the Alpha stands and walks around to the passenger side, then sighs, long and heavy, “Take me back, Josh.”

“What!” Liam squawks, running his hand through his freshly cut hair.

“Harry. You can’t just–,” but he’s through listening.

“Take me home.” He settles in his seat, stares blankly, unblinking, straight ahead.

Aware he’s making more sense on the inside of his head than his words suggest, the Alpha only repeats evenly, once the two cautiously join him, “Take me home.”

&&

            It’s an hour and some before the three arrive at the manor with still no word from the Omega’s inside their self-proclaimed fortress. Well, he’d be stupid to call  _this_  a fairytale–he might be Council’s equivalence to prince, but he’s sure as hell no knight in shining armor.

A second skin, the buzz shrinks, sizes too small, and enticed by proximity his Alpha claws at his restraint, his control, cruel and careless.

It’s so silent, the maddening sort that has all the Alpha levels in the vehicle at subzero. Agitation, aggression, and Alpha, seems to be all there is.

Muscles tense, twitchy, he all but throws himself out of the car, storming towards where two bulky, aged Betas stand guarding the entrance.  _Ah, so this is security._

“Out of the way, Betas,” Harry mutters, unconcerned.

The two share an uneasy look, then the one to the left, “Sorry, but no can do.”

Exhaling a harsh breath through his twice-it’s-size nose, Harry tries again, quietly, “I don’t think the two of you understand who I–,”

“Yes, yes, Harry Styles,” another voice, one he could live without hearing again, interrupts, “Contrary to what you think, son, they don’t care who you are. I tried that route. Unsuccessful. Reasonable as I am, I decided to wait for answers from  _you,_ as you must be responsible. Harry, why am I prohibited from entering my own home?” Home. Put like that, the Alpha wonders why the hell he’s never thought to actually live in one of the estates  _he’d_ inherited, or he’d  _bought,_ or  _anywhere_ without Des Styles’ name stamped on lease or the title or  _anywhere._

Alas, the show must go on.

With a smile plastered to his face, Harry wheels around to face the father of all evil (ha, well his humor’s recovered). Dressed immaculately, the older Alpha’s aged face wears an ugly smile that’s just as fucking fake–go figure. “Let’s take a short stroll, shall we?” In his peripheral vision, the Alpha can make out Josh and Liam lingering near the car (lucky them). 

“Seems I have nothin’ better to do.” Without hesitation, Harry stalks in the opposite direction towards the trail leading into the dense forest. A stray, Des traces his steps, though he doesn’t take them too far, just out-of-earshot.

“Explain.”

This time Harry doesn’t slouch. He straightens to stand at his full height, meeting Des’ stare confidently. “Louis’ gone into heat.” As soon as the words materialize tension grasps his shoulders, and his Alpha rises on his hackles.

Emotion rages, though when his father responds it’s smooth and flat, “Can I ask what possessed you to bring an unmated,  _pre-heat,_ Omega  _here?”_

 _He thinks this is his home._ “I just couldn’t resist,” he taunts, rolling his eyes.

Mouth set in a hard line, Des murmurs tightly, “Have you no sense of responsibility? You brought him here to do what, watch him suffer? You should know your people, and your place. That boy, is not meant for an Alpha of your status. He’s just barely of age. What, pray tell,  _did you expect to get out of this mess, Harold?”_  Any anger deflates fast and leaves him hallow.

“Nothing.” A telling truth laces the word. “I didn’t expect anything. I still don’t. I just want to keep him safe, and happy.”

A horrified expression contorts his feature. “We need to talk.”

“Ain’t that what we’re doing right now?”

“In privacy. My office. Now.”

Unimpressed, the Alpha gestures to the lit up, locked-up, manor in reminder. “We’re not going in there tonight. You aren’t. I forbid it.”

Jaw in an agitated tick the older Alpha demands, “And where the hell are we supposed to go? I could have them removed this instant.”

Crossing his arms, with a venom to his next words Harry murmurs, “Council.”

Satisfaction rears its ugly head when Des sneers, “So be it.”

When the other’s turned his back to walk away the Alpha closes his eyes and fights a vicious anger. Goddamn it, he’s being robbed.

With one last, longing look to the manor, Harry follows after his father, and thinks again he’s absolutely being robbed. 

&&

Louis is lost to the furious flurry of his hormones firestorm. Curled up, awash with heat and a convoluted emptiness, the sheets scrape at his sensitive skin, but the heaving sobs prevent him from saying (screaming) so. On fast-forward, his thoughts are faraway, disoriented by the hurricane of emotion rampage in his lungs. Saliva and tears and all the shameful traces of his heat, slick and semen, sticky his fiery body.

“Boo, please,” his mum, _oh no his mum,_ pleads with him, “Please, listen…to…me…” her words are faith around his frantic heartbeat, a rhythmic thud in his ears.

Swollen, and _achy achy achy_ against his belly, the evidence of his heat humiliates him. Even if his mum can’t see _that,_ she must see how soaked the sheets are (God, how do soaked sheets _look?)_ and know how knot-needy he’s become.

He can’t breathe.

He just feels. Feels, _empty empty empty._

Incomplete.

A caved in ache in his belly; all the heat has pooled there, strung by his Omega body’s basic need _–_ to be knotted and bred. At the thought Louis’ insides clench; he wants it more than _anything._

He can’t breathe; all he wants is _Harry;_ all his Omega needs is _Alpha._

“Louis, love, listen to me for just a few seconds.” Louis tries so hard to, biting his knuckles to muffle his noise. “I know it hurts, sweetheart. We’ll do all we can to help.” _Except bring Harry back,_ remains unsaid. “Ruined your whole weekend, hasn’t it?” Like its funny, Jay chuckles hoarsely. “Baby, you know you can’t stay here.” Fresh, hot tears spill down his cheeks; his Omega bares his canines at the female who birthed him. “It’s time we got you home, yeah? I’ll brew you a nice cuppa and have the girls stay at Liam’s, Karen’s delighted by the mere idea. I’ll give you the _happy pill,_ numb it out under doctor’s orders, and we’ll go home.”

Frantic, Louis forces his sore, quivering limbs to _work,_ to distance them. Mere measures exert him like mile. A heap of exhaustion, and _energy,_ the Omega chokes on his breaths, wild and willful. “Please, please, I n-need Hazzy. Take me home. Bring him _back._ ”

It’s so real. So, so real.

“Jay,” to his sensitive ears Niall’s accent is sharp, and Louis clamps both hands over them to relieve the bite. _Take me home._

A gentle hand smooths his damp hair. Panicked, jumpy, the boy recoils. There’s heartbreak in his mum’s next word, “Okay, okay. I…I have to take care of the girls, but I will be back as soon as possible. Ni and Zayn will stay to take care of you in the meantime. I’ve brought everything and anything I could to help you through this. The boy’s will tell more, yeah?” _No._ No, Louis thinks, trapped. He want to tell them to just _leave him alone,_ to _let him keep this, this hell, to himself._ Because he’s so, so _sick_ of everyone feeling _bad for him._

He’s not that boy…He’s _not._

But too often Louis thinks it’s easy for everyone to see his skin before they see his heart.

Louis always _only sees someone’s heart._  And wishes Harry’s weren’t so freakin’ noble, pure titanium.

In a mindless daze Louis hopes, wa nts to believe, that any and every person within a two mile radius smells his scent, his perfume, _him,_ on his Alphas skin. He’ll never tell, never.

Gasps and pants are damp on the pillows he’s buried his face in. Evergreen, sweat, and that special scent, musky and Alpha, intoxicates him, stuns his senses and distracts his heart. Need resonates through his entire, melted body. Instinct carries him; his hands, too small, too soft, ghost over his glossy body.

Breathless, in need of air, the Omega tosses onto his back, and chews on his bottom lip. Flames dance down his spine until Louis bows, the air blanketing him too warm and thick to trigger those vicious shockwaves of contact _._

With his lids screwed shut, Louis runs the tips of his fingers over the sore, puffy peaks of his nipples. Sensation sails through his bloodstream, and his canines draw blood from his lip. Desperate for this to be over, the Omega’s hand strokes down his tummy towards where he’s swollen and leaky. A loose fist, his nimble fingers circle his cock, wet and easy, like Alphas showed him.

_Alpha. Harry. Hazzy. Haz._

Colour bleeds into him, _pink._

A breathy noise breaks from his mouth, and his hips jump involuntarily.

Vivid, all the remnants of his Alpha’s touch, his hands and his mouth and his tongue and _Harry Harry_ all over him, spurs the fervor–like this, he decides to put his money where his mouth is and _carry himself home._

Wild, on impulse, Louis lurches upright to…to…

Dizzied, he only settles on his knees to slump forward, face submerged in the scented sheets, arched so his bum is bare, and _begging_ for Harry’s knot. _“Pleasepleaseplease,”_ lit up inside Louis trembles and shivers, his mind _tricking him_ as slightly calloused hands, hands he’s felt before and he’ll feel again and again, trace the delicate line of his spine. _Stop._ But, _“Alpha,”_ he’s _bawling_ for him, overwhelmed by his Omega body’s betrayal, by his Alpha _abandoning him,_ and his friends _keeping too close._ He wants to be _alone alone alone_ with himself, but his Omega wants with a vicious compulsion, wants the pain to be pleasure, wants to be caught on Harry’s knot where Alpha will praise him and love him and–

_Empty._

Without permission, Louis thumbs at the wet slit of his cock, strokes over the length experimentally. “Alpha,” the word is slurred and indistinct but his blood _sings,_ and his tummy _aches._ A fresh flow of slick, thick and wet, trickles down the backs of his sawing thighs, and his hole clenches up impossibly.

_Empty._

Feverish, out of his mind, the boy fists his cock with an urgency, runs his hand up and down up and down up and down while reaching around to touch himself _there._ It’s one sloppy stroke that has starbursts of pleasure shimmering to life in his belly.

All the heat’s coiled tight, low low low there, but a needy creature by nature he needs more more more.

“Alpha,” the sound is torn from his frantic lungs as the boy forces his index past the vulnerable, fluttery rim of his hole so the first digit is snug inside, surrounded by heat and flesh and slick and _he’s inside himself._ It’s not much of a stretch, not at all he’s so wet and easy for it, for anything _Alpha,_ but it’s still stings. _It’ll sting worse when Alpha’s taken us,_ sunny and overjoyed his Omega’s found his voice. Hot, hurt tears spill down his flushed cheeks as excruciating pleasure throbs _everywhere,_ especially where he’s heavy between his legs. He doesn’t want to do this, he doesn’t want to–

He has to.

Lost, and scared, Louis tries to catch his breath, to find some strategy in masturbation (all he remembers is Niall’s elusiveness and Harry’s _long fingers,_ and “ _S not about the size, lovely, it’s about the experience, and how you use what you’re given.”_ Which means he has only his Omega. He doesn’t know exactly what that means for him). With no control, the boy surrenders himself to the stranger in his mind, and his body, and definitely his heart.

Round and round in rotation Louis circles his finger, urgently stroking his slick walls. Frustration wells up; it _hurts, it hurts, it hurts,_ and _this isn’t helping anything;_ his hand is drenched, and it’s uncomfortable. The only relief is how he’s palming himself–thumbing at the engorged outline of a vein until saliva pools in his mouth, and he thinks lights flicker in his open-eyed darkness.

Oh, God, it doesn’t last.

Ashamed, he prepares to _get it out_ despite his Omega’s stubborn protests, promising to _never ever_ try this again when, not meaning to at all, he curls his finger. All his energy, every electric charge, concentrates on this one small space in his body, and its bliss. He _knows_ lights flicker in his open-eyed darkness.

In full bloom his Omega tries to absorb the disordered, chaotic sensation the pressure, the _play,_ sets free.

Like this, the boy ruts into the mattress, and claws at the sheets with his free hand for leverage.

With one little finger pressed tight to that magical bump, Louis comes in hard, shattering blows; his Omega does him so right, never letting him stop, riding out his jerks and arches.

Sleep is misnomer for what Louis actually needs; _escape_ fits, carrying him _far far away_ from everything but his Alpha, his Harry.

&&

            Upon Des’ request ( _“You look like absolute hell, and stink of Omega. You will not set foot on Council grounds looking as you do.”_ Well, unfortunately for _him,_ no amount of make-up, body wash, soap or scrubbing can fix his face or cleanse him of Louis’ scent) Harry _gladly_ spends the majority of their air travels in the lavatory of his father’s private jet.

With a towel tied low round his hips, the Alpha emerges from his nuclear-hot shower into the private quarters only to find an outfit’s been laid out, impeccable and without even one wrinkle, on the bed. An all-black suit– _how depressing._ Despite the repulsed resentment in his glare, the outfit doesn’t combust (the saddest part: he just _might._ ) And so, dressed for a funeral, Harry descends the short stairway onto Council territory.

A massive structure Council never ceases to set him on edge, even at this point.

Derived from Greece, the structure is Doric, palatial and polished pillars and detailed signs. It’s England at its gloomiest, at a constant overcast (at least his outfit matches his “empire”). Rabbit warren, a ranging labyrinth Harry’s never bothered to explore. Probably never will.

“Home sweet home,” Des steps out onto the landing beside him. An indescribable emotion, one he’s never known his father to wear before, softens his aging features. Like this, the Council male appears washed out, mellow and… _sad;_ the mere sight, the view he’s seen thousands upon thousands of times before this very moment, does _this,_ reveals…this.

Deep in Harry’s gut, fury festers…but it’s so baseless. So useless.

“Well, I don’t intend to stand here all evening. Let’s be on our way.” Despite these words the older stays a stoic standstill without eerie emotion behind that solid stare. There’s no expression to be found. It’s a sight that haunts him, that will haunt him until something _changes._ God, something has to _change._ Because he can’t become as his father exists currently: a black, shimmering shadow. It’s a revelation he’s had time and time again. And it still panics him. In some twisted way, Des’ indifference feeds his anger, and God knows his Alpha is starved for it.

Between clenched teeth the Alpha prompts impatiently, “Listen, I wouldn’t wait, but I don’t know the way. So if you could just direct me or summat. This is the most bored ‘ve been all damn day.”

 _God damn it,_ not even his ill manners rouse a reaction. Rather his father gestures at the mass of history, “You should appreciate the view. This is your heritage. Your place, and your _people._ Your birthright. You have so much potential, son. You could accomplish such things.” A hand settles on his shoulder. Tension latches onto his muscles, his tendons. He stands there in motionless skin. “I see nothing worthy of praise,” he also sees no reason to lie. “All I see is a factionist, sexist, outdated and _bigoted_ dictatorship.”

“Perhaps in time,” the hand on his shoulder tightens just enough to be a hideous pressure. Fortunately, Des regains control of his wandering hand, then glances at his gold, flashy watch and hems twice. “Ah, how time flies.” Yeah, if he could fly he’d be going right back home to his boy; he thinks he might just give up everything if Louis asks him to (even if he doesn’t). He almost says so, but Des barks first, “This way.”

And he’s wasting so much time, but, he still goes _“that way”._

Anxiety crawls up his spine in ice cold tendrils; paranoia creeps along the walls of his skull–if he leaves this place and doesn’t return he hopes Council changes. He hopes to miss it, to miss his generation, many like him, turn their backs on their predecessors. He hopes to look out of place here because somehow despite it all still he is as they are.

As the marble echoes with every step, despite the activity, Harry’s stare is strict on his shoes. From every angle at every direction the stares blister beneath his skin. Like this, he tries to act like it doesn’t faze him, but really he can’t stand it.

As to save his body from disintegrating to ash, Harry lifts his head and smiles slowly, saluting them. One by one Harry tallies, _Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, another Alpha, on look Alpha, Al–Omega._ His stare swings to find a pert female Omega in the midst of the hoard, the lion’s den. The _only_ female, and the _only_ Omega.

“Back to the kitchen, love,” one of the smallest, snarkiest Alpha’s he’s seen before spews. Ah, it’s always the ones suffering from Napoleon’s complex. Some things really don’t change. His stubby hand shoves the neat stack in her protective arms so papers scatters on the marble.

He stops, just to see what the others do.

Nobody seems to have noticed, and the outcast doesn’t wait for them either, sinking to her knees with a hopeless look. And he can’t, “ _fuck I look for trouble,”_ he mutters under his breath before stalking towards the–

“Don’t. You’ll do no good to her.”

Without sparing the bastard a glance Harry sing-songs, “Screw you.”

Still vomiting indecencies, the small Alpha (the small _kid)_ is joined by his buddies as the Omega retrieves her belongings. Wordless, shouldering past them, Harry kneels beside her, and smiles when she murmurs icily, “I don’t need _your_ help, thanks.” _Louis needs my help,_ the thought is cruel. He winces, falters, then, “This isn’t help,” he denies flippantly, using extreme care with the thin, straight sheets. “This is my setting an example.”

Stare flat, the Alpha pins down the leader of this little circle; he can’t be older than fifteen, all pubescent and insecure on the inside (he’s been there). This is why Harry rethinks his plot to properly set a...example; because he sees some semblance of himself in those rebellious, heated eyes. “You’ve read the 10th scripture?” When the other blinks, then nods cautiously, he asks simply, “What’s the seventh passage, page ninety three say?”

Obviously the kid doesn’t know, a red flush creeping up his throat. He takes pity on him this once. “Integrated as one the blood, the soul, the spirit of history as history ensues we are naught without the whole _yata yata._ You know what they meant when they put those words together?” A shake of the head.

“Yeah, me either,” he smiles softly, then, “But I know what they _really mean,_ not just the bullshit implications. It means that you are no better than an Omega today, you were no better yesterday, and you will be no better tomorrow. Hell, me either.” Someone coughs, someone chortles, someone tries to interrupt but another someone retorts, “ _Piss off, let the disappointment warm our wittle hearts.”_ Well, that’s just asking too much.

“Alpha or not, no better. Judging by your roots, it’s safe to say you came from an Omega. We all came from an Omega. Our names were given to us by an Omega. We should never take from our Omegas, female or male. We should never hurt our Omegas. Do we hate our Omegas?” He’s not sure he wants to hear the answer; luckily there isn’t one. “It’s time to kill for our Omegas. Heal our Omegas. It’s time to recognize them as people. They are not _ours,_ nor have they ever been. They belong to themselves unless they say otherwise, and they should never be denied the chances and rights we’ve had handed to us from birth. And this goes for Betas too.” 

“What a statement, _too bad it doesn’t matter,”_ someone laughs.

“Our society can’t be kept in the hands of the incompetent.” _Oh please._

“Conspiracy! He’s a rat! Another one plotting against us,” someone with extreme conviction (his eyes almost get stuck in the back of his head he’s rolling them so hard) cries.

With a steely look, the Alpha extends a hand to the girl, but with a broad smile on her pale face she stands without his help. He simply follows.

“One against all of us, you really want to do this, Styles? We put our strays down.”

“It’s that blind bat putting ideas in his head!”

“We should have him outlawed! Exiled! The both of them. Put the malformed one to death!” He swears on any and every God out there, he’ll hunt all of them down, slit their throats, and bathe in their blood. As the points of his canines extend, he bites down on his tongue, and starts to shove past the teeming bodies that stink of Alpha and challenge. The girl steps in beside him, and smiles. It’s tense, but it’s there. “It’s not much to work with, but they’re not all so bad. I’m Eleanor, and my father is still standing tall as a Council Alpha. He certainly doesn’t raise uncultured girls or Omegas.” _They let her in?_

“You know my name I reckon. No it’s not _Rat._ Unfortunately, my father does raise cultured boys and Alphas.”

“We can’t all win.” Eleanor shrugs one shoulder.

“Well, I was never labeled outcast before this,” he muses just to tune out the uproar of idiots inciting his Alphas murderous intent. “I might just adopt it.”

“Better than Rat,” she agrees sympathetically.

By the time they break through the nasty pack, his stomach is sick, poisoned. In Des’ direct line of sight, they part ways. He storms past his father, who quits applauding to trail soundlessly.

At some point, on autopilot, the Alpha just _goes,_ and winds up before two grandeur doors with opulent, polished handles. Dimly, they are familiar to him, and push the wrong buttons in all the fucked parts of his head. “That was quite the show. Don’t worry, they’ll settle down shortly. They’re easily excited,” his father comments tightly, disapproval thick in his voice. When it’s obvious Harry isn’t going to take the bait, the other simply nods, and moves onto the task at hand. Getting away from the fuckin’ _riot._

A muscle ticks in his jaw as Des takes his time letting them in. Of course it’s just as he remembers; nothing’s changed. An expansive room, it’s like most everything else in his father’s possession. Luxurious, ostentatious, and hideous. A narrow-minded genius with no fashion sense–go figure.

All those times mother would bring them here for lunch in the gardens; all those times she’d comment on the colour scheme (an ugly brown accented by deep reds and too many shades of yellow), and the antiques (vases, and old shit Harry was warned not to touch), the chandelier lightbulbs (too dim, then too bright), and so on.

Yeah and so _he_ just barely resists the urge to comment on the colour scheme, the antiques, the chandelier lightbulbs (though those are really too dim). Rather, Harry decides it’s best to keep his mouth shut, and plants his arse in the seat before Des’ desk (glossy, well-made Oakwood).

Impassively, his eyes scan the junk there; an antique lamp, piled paperwork, pens that probably costed too much, a laptop, a framed pictured set atop a box he’d last seen when he was nine, three years after…

Thoughtlessly, the Alpha reaches forward to stroke but–, “Don’t touch that.” He does anyway, stares at the white velvet adorned by pink roses, “What was her name?”

He says a name Harry doesn’t recognise. He repeats it, and vows to never again.

The picture is what does Des Styles in–an old picture perfect family. He couldn’t have been more than five, all pale skin and hair; Gemma six, posed beside him in a pretty dress. A woman he vaguely recognizes as his mum is smiling with eyes he sees in the reflection every day. He sees more than some resemblance. A caustic fury chars his veins, and he just barely refrains from pitching the ugly thing to the floor. “It’s the little I have left. Your monster of a mother took most of what was in that bloody box.”

He doesn’t quite know what to make of those words, or their bitter traces. So, he just, “You just didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You have no idea, boy,” his father doesn’t seem fazed, crouched across the room at the fireplace with a poker in hand. Stare caught in the kindling flames Harry flounders. Shadows dance as the fire is manipulated, and the flames climb. “No idea,” he laughs humorlessly, straightening again.

With how Harry’s gritting his teeth he’s surprised he has any left at this point.

“You were just a pup, how could you?”

He refuses to ask. God damn it, _he will not._

“You see me as a demon from Satan’s finest pits of hell. A demon I am not, however.” _Okay, Yoda,_ he snorts inwardly, “No, you are Satan,” he says instead, crossing his legs with an annoyed sigh. If he has to be here he might as well get comfortable. A backache is honestly the last thing he needs. Against the silk button-up the broken streaks of skin sting, taunting him with every shift.

“You should see me as I am. You look for reasons to loathe me.”

“I don’t look for shit,” he finally sneers. “I see all there is, and I always have.”

“You’re as blind as that Omega,” Des waves one hand; in the dim light the ruby red signet ring on his index finger, an heirloom _rock_. “You’re still young. You have much to learn.”  He doesn’t think his brain could handle much more. In agreement his temples throb and Harry leans back again and prepares to tune out the Council Alpha. He’s shaken all the way awake when Des says, “I’ve been where you are. I’ve been out of my mind. I’ve walked solo. I’ve seen the love lights. Yet, I always came home. You will too.” Yeah, he wishes he _were_ home, but he’ll make up for the lost time. He will.

“You are nothing like me,” he says frigidly, regarding him passively.

“No. You are so much like me. I could never deny you because you _are_ me. You, however, deny, deny, deny…and yet you look back at me with the same eyes and the same fire.” Honest, there is no fire, not in that dead stare–he’s never doubted his father’s inability to feel so much.

Staring now he wants to toy with him until his head bleeds with all his dirty secrets and dark lies.

“I might be,” he mutters with calm detachment woven in his voice, “but there’s a difference. There’s such a difference. I never want to be where you are now. I don’t want to wake up lonely. I don’t want to be just fine. I don’t want to forget. I want to know what it means to be loved. I _am_ loved, and I love in return.”

It’s as if Harry makes no sense whatsoever as Des clears his throat and clasps his hands in front of him. Ashen faced, the Council male speaks with calculated indifference, “I have more now than I ever did.”

“Do you?”

He hesitates; his most fatal mistake.

A slow, smart-ass smile spreads. “Didn’t think so.”

“You _are_ getting older. It’s starting to show.” _Flattered, really._ Under those critical eyes Harry’s temper flares hot, and he just barely bites his tongue, calling on every fragment of control that’s stored his sanity. “No matter, I thought to remind you of my warnings as you’ve seemed to have–,”

There goes that. “Forgotten?” he asks pleasantly, folding his hands in his lap. “No, father, I just don’t care. Your opinions hold no particular substance in my life.”

Silence swarms between them. A satisfaction so extreme it takes actual effort to suppress a toothy grin.

Across from him, Des’ stare is hard, cold.

Faintly, the Alpha imagines a younger version of this male. A version with much more–happiness even. It’s torn from him when the older scrubs at his eyes with a heavy sigh and makes it to opposite side of his desk.

“I have to say–,”

“Don’t bother, I–,”

“ _Silence.”_  There’s a sharp note to his voice. Emotion. A note of extreme anxiety. It’s that abrupt lapse in control that shuts Harry up. Once he’s sure his son won’t interrupt (he’s not so sure himself), “I have to say, you have disappointed me endlessly,” _is that a secret?_  “But not with this. No with…the Omega.” _What…the fuck?_

A lurch of confusion prods at him. “Louis,” he corrects hoarsely. “His name is Louis.”

“Ah, Louis, yes,” Des nods, settling in his leather seat. “Bright boy.” It’s the only positive (it is, isn’t it?) comment his father’s given where it concerns him. Which means this will surely go to hell. Quickly.

“He is.”

“I see how much he means to you,” the observation crawls along his skin like thousands of spiders, though he damn well does not show it. Des should be as fucking clueless as he. “Perhaps a little too much.”

The grenade in his chest clatters, an inevitable countdown to destruction. Exposing the points of his canines Harry locks stares with his father to lean forward and demand, “What are you sayin’, father?”

“Your Alpha has bonded him, yes?”

“That does not concern you,” he snarls icily before ground his molars the best he can with the length of his incisors. Riled, his Alpha is up to best, not giving any fucks (when does he?), especially not threatened so severely.

“Yes. You have. It’s practically stapled to your forehead, boy.”

As to keep his hands to himself and _not_ around Des’ thick throat Harry runs them through his lengthy waves. The many rings his fingers sport get caught in the tangles and rips strands. The most brilliant of blue’s sparkles in the firelight, and his stare softens impossibly tracing the gems. It’s so much more than the ruby red on Des’ finger. Means so much more. He thinks about this; about the Omega, the home, waiting for him, and, “I love him,” is what he whispers. “I really, really, love him, dad.”

He doesn’t look up to see Des’ expression, only listens to the Alpha’s movements. A fat folder slaps on the wood before him. “His whole life, right there. Medical records included. Read it, and then you can speak of this love nonsense.” A second thought, Des places another envelope addressed to Johanna Austin from a Troy Austin over the intimidating load. Never has Harry seen, heard, _known_ that name. Doesn’t think he was ever intended to.

The thing in his chest feels strangled by the pity and grief that overcasts his father’s eyes.

_No. No, fuck that look. Fuck that fucking look._

“So many sad stories. He’s been through enough, Harry,” his voice softens and _fuck that fucking voice._ “Do the poor lad a favor and leave him be.”

Covered in crazy, fighting for air, the Alpha takes the heavy folder in shaky hands and walks calmly to the fireplace. Before Des can stop him Harry tosses the bloody thing to the fire and watches its blaze of glory. A fucking _curse,_ the envelope lays safe and sound on the ground. Zombielike, Harry crouches to take it in trembling fingers and…and… _can’t._

It sickens him.  
It festers.  
It stays. But he won’t.

Folding it neatly, the Alpha tucks it in his pocket and makes it to the doors. “You’re making a _mistake.”_

“I love him.”

“Love does not exist.” It sounds like a lie.

“Maybe not for you.”

“You have _nothing_ without me.” _I have my promises. I have my home. And I have my Omega._ “Do not turn your back on me. Stay.”

“Sure, I could,” he sighs softly, “but there’s a place I’d rather be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy  
> probably already had a few anxiety attacks in wait...buuuuuuut  
> I'd love thoughts and feedback,  
> thank you all again  
> xx

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? :)


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